ThinkWrite LXII

Question

Thanks artofsensuality for passing the torch to me. I'll try to be less sadistic than normal this time, for those of you that are familiar with my past lists. So...let's see, a word list. This is all coming off the top of my head right now, no rhyme or reason.

Resist
Control
Willowy
Continue
Simple
Contrasted
Dirty
Regret
Thief
Bliss

Make your stories 256 words, including title. I will be checking word count, and while entries that don't meet it will be accepted, they will not be considered for torch passing (unless, of course, you blow my mind). Also, please try to use the words exactly as they are given.

I'm not going to set a date to pass the torch. To try to encourage participation, I will not pass the torch until there are 10 responses. Hopefully extending it like this will encourage more people to participate, and will give people who want to get a story in during the busy holiday season a chance to do so. If there are 10 responses before a week is up, I will pass the torch in one week: Friday, December 10th. Otherwise, I will pass the torch within 24 hours after receiving the 10th response.

Good luck guys, blow my mind!

Comments

posting in wrong spot again.....edit

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working on something midnight, be patient.

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Ladies and gentlemen, we have now reached 10 submissions. Not all meet the required word count, but all are very good. Thank you all for your submissions, I enjoyed reading all of them. I will be ready to pass the torch shortly.

Answer 1

 

Alternate Route

The solution was simple, the problem was not.

I was forced into a decision, told it was the most important choice in my life. Yet the decision had been reached long before I came to it. The road seemed to have several paths, yet only one was being trod.

All other choices were blotted out by the dust of a thousand travelers choosing the dirty road. No other decision could be seen, but there must have been better paths. Every passerby wanted me to come along with them, for neither of our benefit’s, they simply wanted companionship on the path they had “chosen.”

Would I continue towards the willowy path of regret and self-loathing, or could I resist outside control. The pressure was stifling I could not move under my own power and almost gave in to mob mentality.

I leaned back, held out my arms, and was carried. The path loomed closer. My Fear contrasted the false emotion on every surrounding face. How could they not see the horror they were traveling towards?

I fought for breath and tried to turn around. It was almost impossible. The moment I relinquished the smallest degree of control, all of it was taken from me. It took every ounce of willpower to stay motionless in the unending current of the lost.

When my feet once again touched the ground I stole away. I became the greatest thief, for what I took was freedom, and I kept it. I did not barter it away for momentary bliss.

Comments

256 exactly all words used i accidentally posted half of this earlier which is why my first post says ignore this. I love your website!

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Heavy, Leo.  Some folks like to wallow in their own depression.  Stealing freedom?  I'm still mulling that one.

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Thanks Giraffe. if u think about it a lot of freedom was originally given or taken. slavery, americas(and others) revolution, freedom of speech. Stolen may not be the perfect word but it sounded right idk

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In context of stealing BACK your freedom, it makes perfect sense.  That's a major struggle.

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I love this! There are a couple punctuation errors I could nitpick (an apostrophe where it shouldn't have been and a period where there should have been a question mark.), but I'm not going to. This is a wonderfully told metaphoric story. It's a struggle everyone faces, and so often we chose to take the easier path, and become slaves to our own regrets and fears. This hit close to home because for a long time I took that easy path and hated every second of my life...but the longer I stayed on it, the harder it became to "steal freedom". Thank you for this beautiful story.

And to everyone: you guys are doing great. The stories here are some of the best I've seen yet in the ongoing TW challenge. I'm amazed by the imagery contained in every single story...you guys rock so hard!!

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thanks so much and yes i know even though i am a journalism major i am the epitome of grammatical errors. lol

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Leo - you are the new Torch Bearer. Since you're new here, this is how it works:

Start a new challenge (ThinkWrite LXIII). In it, include a list of 10 words to be included in every story - some people specify that the words should be used exactly as given, and others say it can be any form of the word. You should also include a word count for the stories.

When you pass the torch, there are no rules for it, other than you cannot pass it back to who passed it to you. It can be the story you think is best, the one that stands out to you, or the one that trips a trigger or tickles your fancy.

Congrats, this is an amazing story. I cannot wait to see your challenge.

Answer 2

Midnight, this is 100 words, but it has all the mandatory words in it.....

 

Being unable to resist the draw of nature, I now find myself standing in the midst of the trees, far from the warmth of a fire.  The ground is piled with drifts of pure white snow, contrasting sharply against the dirty color of the trees whose branches are no longer so graceful and willowy, but now stand up stiffly.  The stark, yet simplistic beauty makes me smile as I continue trudging through the deep, crunching snow.  There is something so controlled about it all that I feel like a thief, and regret all my steps through this perfect blissful day.

Comments

Just spotted this as a doubler from the Snow Challenge. Two for the price of one!

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Beautiful imagery, ladyhwin. I really like this, even though it falls short of the word count and you've changed a couple of the words. You've painted a beautiful picture of a winter day.

One thing, and this is to everyone...lady used bold on the mandatory words. Someone else did this in the last challenge. I'm going to ask that people do not do this. Let the words blend into your story, don't make them stand out. The point of this is to seamlessly fit the words into the story, and if I have to search for them to make sure you got all of them, it means you did a good job. Making them bold makes it harder for them to blend into it.

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ignore this post

Answer 3

Arcadia

It was one of those beautiful summer afternoons up on the grassy headland. As usual the bliss would be short lived as the thief of time would speed the day away, but there was no regret. This was what memories were made of, simple pleasures that contrasted with the dirty streets of the nearby towns. Here the world would continue unchanged, generation on generation, bringing peace and recuperation to the weary. It was his world, with no control, no formality and it was perfect.

The calm blue sea spread out under a cloudless blue sky in one direction; the sheep cropped grass and little coppices of willowy trees contrasted this in shades of green that stretched inland as far as the eye could see. From his vantage point the world was laid out in all her glory and he relished every moment. There was no way to resist nature at her most wonderful and he had no intention of even trying. Poets and artist spent lifetimes trying to capture such scenes with indifferent success. Only in the here and now did it exist in all its glory.

Sunshine changed to sunset, to twilight and at last the clear sky turned a darker blue and the stars appeared; a million sparkling points of light thrown carelessly over the heavens.  The full moon rose and flooded the world with a new softer light. If the day had been sublime, then the night excelled. He lingered a little longer then turned homeward to a night of peaceful rest.

Comments

Sax,  I like the turn to nature lots are taking these days.  and this one is very nice.  One phrase caught me up.  "Indifferent success".  Is the artist indifferent toward his art, or the viewers indifferent toward his work?  I might have used something like "with questionable success".

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Giraffe, thanks for the comments. One reason for the use of "indifferent" is that the word sound, its parts and their rise and fall, is softer than "questionable" whixh has a hard start.

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I like this a lot. You didn't so much tell a story as paint a picture with words. You have a gift for imagery. It's wonderful when a writer shows you the scene rather than telling you about it, and that is exactly what you did here. Also - you managed to use 7 of the keywords in the first paragraph - nice! On the first read, I barely noticed the keywords, and on the second read, I thought you had gotten all 10 into the first paragraph. I had to read it a third time and count them.

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love the illuminating imagery....your love of nature shining through the word webs......thanks for posting this.....reading meditation.....an escape from the grey.....deb

Answer 4

City life.
It's just human nature to resist control, to want to feel different, but it is the human pattern's way when we lose our souls to industry and its the human patterns way when we hate the fact we are home brand in nature.If there were answers to the everyday,wouldn't it be bliss to know why we continue to trudge the same dirty streets,and the reason why we are not all certifiable from unconsciously forming  human patterns on grey concrete?.

We have no regret, our lives determined by our arrival on time at our destination. The human pattern has swallowed us whole so that we dont even realise we live in de ja vu five days a week.

Time is our thief in the night who sets the alarm for six thirty am and we respond by answering the jangle with a shower and a cup of coffee as we go groundhog day in the city all straight lines, defined edges and anti depressants.
I give a state contrasted with

Country life.

The deep blue, the willowy greens,the babbles of clear blue water and whispering weeping willows. My longed for hues of green and all the colours in between.I am dying here in the city we all are.Human patterns are eclectic in the country, they are friends and family three doors down who lean on fence posts watching the sun set at the end of the day.Sharing homemade beesting cake and earl grey tea in huge mugs,all friendly smiles and hard work.
The willows caress a chattering creek and sigh in an errant breeze they sigh straight to my soul
"No human pattern here, why are you there? You should be near".
I can hear it just now behind an ambulance scream and the incessant drone of an overworked air conditioner. Can you hear? The call of the simple life and no medication.

Comments

Might be a little overkill on 'weeping willows', but definitely a hopeful, feel good piece.

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yes I flogged the weeping thing a bit much thanks for your sage advice  I took your constructiveness and it sounds much better now thank you for your kind comment.....:0)....deb

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This is a beautiful concept, deb. I think it needs editing in the execution, but I really like the story you told.

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Thanks Midnight for readin my country life ode......when you say execution do you mean the wording  or tidying it up to make it make more sense....lol....i am guessing what you meant can you give me your thoughts...i would appreciate them for sure..deb

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Wording, grammar, punctuation...tidying it up. I'm not functional enough to give you any solid tips right now. It is a beautiful concept, though.

Answer 5

(All of the list - in order.  256 wds.)

 CAT

 It was just another day after work, only I spotted Doreen (one of my assistants) on the El train.  We exchanged pleasantries and a little gossip when she said.  "This is my stop.  Is it yours, too?"

 'God, no!'  I thought.  This was one of the most exclusive areas of Chicago and I had 3 stops to go.  She seemed to read my mind as she stepped through the hydraulic doors onto the platform saying "I'll see you in the morning, John."

 "Goodnight, Doreen."  I slipped out about 3 seconds later just as the doors were closing.  Nobody noticed in this crowd.  I couldn't resist following her, my heart pumping.  I stood and breathed deeply as I regained control.

 This willowy creature had me Mesmerized.  I must continue this simple task.  Oh, how it contrasted with my world at the office.  I felt sneaky and dirty and I liked it.  I barely knew where I was heading, but I still had her in my sights.  She'd changed, but was the same!  The wispy Asian girl from the office seemed to own these streets.  What a lioness.  She made my blood boil.

As she turned right onto Halsted, something seemed familiar.  I went into a deja vu and almost felt regret for having gone this far.

 She stopped and turned around, reaching into her purse.  "Hi, John.  We're home.  I'll open the door if you'll check the mail."  I followed her like a thief.  Our double lives were full of bliss - like our cat's fantasies. 

Comments

Wow.....awesome what a clever giraffe....can i have your brain please.....smilin....brilliant wording so precisely perfect....i enjoyed this betwitchin tail...;0)..deb

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I found it rather interesting also giraffe.  I love the interblending of the story line if that makes sense.  Not too crazy about the "dialogue, but the ideas were great!

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Agreed, Doug.  With a few more words I might have made her more sultry and seductive - and he the wooden businessman.  Or vice versa.  So I copped out generic.

thanks, deb.  Right back atcha.

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I don't think you copped out.  With the word limit restrictions I thought you did a good job.  At 500 words and the same attention to the "writing" and it would have been even better.

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Good job love the intricate shifts!

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This makes no sense to me. It is much better writing than you normally do, I can tell you took your time and cared about it, but I don't "get it".

Answer 6

265 including title..being a bit dyslexic today I guess.  Have a terrible toothache and heading to the dentist (which I fear more than anything).  Hope you like or if you hate it that's fine too; I always march to a different drummer.

 

Beasties

They are the dirty little beasties that travel the edges of our simple existence. The forest’s edge is the perfect place to find them. Looking straight ahead you see a meadow filled with the most beautiful wildflowers in hues of reds, purples and tangerine. This is all contrasted by the perimeter of tall foreboding pines that interrupt the blissful vision of the meadow. The trees form a straight line of inescapable darkness. The willowy daylilies that sprout like fireflies from the earth bend away from the forest’s edge. The little beasties send a stiff breeze from their stand of pines melting the beauty of the meadow. It’s not easy to catch a glimpse of one, for they look like mere shadows expressed in smoke or a fog that envelopes your mind. They are there, as sure as I stand hovering over a warm fire studying nature, like a thief surveying his prey. Casting an eye deeper into the pines, I see the muted light of a crystal reflecting the energy of the meadow, but it too is trapped on enemy lines dissipated by the even stronger continuation of the little beasties and their trees that they have charmed into becoming loathsome beasts.

Regretfully, I decided to venture into the army of pines that seemingly scowled at me with their warped bark and prickly limbs. I was unable to resist temptation or maybe it was the calling of the other side that forced my legs to amble to the edge. They had control of me now. I join them as a part of their army.  

Comments

I think I like it, but I'm not sure I "get it". I'm going to have a cup of coffee and come back to this. Good luck at the dentist.

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I liked it too.  It hit me as someone with great curiousity who believes there is something out there beyond some veil of disilluion and maybe deception.  He's determined - kind of metaphysical.

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I've read it again. I'm still not sure I understand what you're saying with it, but I do know I like it. Well written with good, descriptive imagery.

Answer 7

Stolen Thoughts (149 words)

Was it truly his fault that he couldn’t resist? It had been his mistake, yes, but caused by a factor he couldn’t control. Her tall, willowy figure echoed in his mind like a bad pop song he couldn’t get out of his head. He couldn’t continue living this life. It was no longer simple. His morality and his occupation contrasted harshly, leaving him beaten and confused. He had scrubbed his body until it was raw, but he still felt dirty. His regret left a terrible taste his mouth. How could he have been so careless? He was no longer a common thief of petty things. He had stolen a life. It was clear to him now. He would never have normal. He would never have peace. He reached under his bed and pulled out the long thin box. One way or another, he would find quiet bliss.

Comments

Powerful, well written. Short of the word count, so I'm not sure I can consider it for passing the torch...but this story is right up my alley (as anyone familiar with my writing can tell you). The aftermath of murder...guilt that comes with it. I like how you did this, and welcome to ThinkWrite.

Answer 8

Swan song..........

I try to resist,

but I still cry with love songs,

I hold back the tears,

and it feels just so wrong,

wasnt it simple for you to see

how we were never in control

how you and I were meant to be,

that we existed soul to soul.

You know all my dirty secrets,

and you trusted me with yours

 

You and I led contrasted lives,

I wasa friend of the husbands and you were a friend of the wives,

you haunt me still,

the hot nights for years that we shared

continue to flash forward,

your whispers are my willowy threads

that keep me together,

they give me hope one day of you and I forever

BUT

sometimes

when I am firmly in reality

beyond the cold comfort of doubt

I KNOW

like a thief you stole the heart of me,

and this will always be,

your whispers are your swan song to me.

And from me to you,

we were so close

we almost made it through

and i cant forget the bliss,

it will always be you that I miss.

.

Comments

beautiful, sad sentiment. I'm going to nitpick a bit...bits of this poem have rhyme and rhythm, and others are completely lacking. It throws off the flow of the whole thing. Either do free verse or a structured rhythmic poem. This seems to be both. I like it, but it's difficult to read because of the irregular flow...or maybe that was the point?

Answer 9

CAT  (Epilogue)

John and Doreen had been working for the same company for many years and no one ever suspected they were married.  Due to the nature of the company, John thought it might ruin his chances for promotions - having an Asian wife - and he was correct.  Doreen agreed and understood.

The first 2 years were miserable.  It almost ruined them until Doreen thought up this silly game to get them out of 'work mode' and into 'spouse mode'.  It was always different, and clever.  Once he was a  man convulsing on the sidewalk,  She gave him full CPR and walked him home giggling.

Now John had 3 personae - the single, stodgy guy at work;  the playful public jokester; and the loving husband.  Which one was really him?  Why all of them, of course.

Comments

This is one way of untying the riddle.  There must be many more.

Answer 10

256 words including title. Was longer, have edited it down, and think it lacks a little of the zing it had. Oh well.

No Hard Feelings

“A regret?” he asked, taking a deep drag on the cigarette and blowing the smoke out through his nose. “I didn’t spend more time with my bliss.” A cryptic statement, from a charismatic character. He was a model of control, despite prison fatigues and shackles. I signalled he should continue, but he sat there and closed his eyes, contented with a simple smoke and the silence it afforded him. We had spoken often, on many subjects: His wife “willowy, beautiful”; his parents “corrupt”; his incarceration “justified”. He was a marked contrast to the dirty thief often portrayed in the papers, had a charisma that was difficult to resist. And today was the last day we would have together. He had an appointment, “with the almighty” as he put it, with a smile on his face.

My pen was poised above the paper. I’d brought a spare, and it sat on the table in front of me. The guards hung back a little, having grown accustomed to my frequent visits. I was writing freelance, trying to see things from a killer’s viewpoint. The story was compelling, just needing closure. He moved so fast! He grabbed my spare pen, flipped the lid off and plunged it into my neck. I grabbed for it, but coated in blood, it was slick and impossible to grip. The guards rushed forward, billy clubs raised in a futile gesture of power. The darkness closed in. The words he whispered before sitting down echoed round my head: “no hard feelings”.

Comments

The natural praying mantis - charms you elegantly, somewhat satisfies your quest, then off with your head.  I'd like to read the orig.

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I think it still has plenty of zing. You got the point of the story across without being too wordy. I like this a lot...particularly the ending.