ThinkWrite Challenge LXXVIII

Question

There isn't a specific theme for this ThinkWrite Challenge. I'm keeping it open for any topic at all. As always, no poetry please and feel free to use any form of the word, be it a plural, past/future tense, etc. =)

Word List:

paradise

butter

sound

float

thirty

pathetic

understand

warrant

craft

sudden

Word Limit: Minimum = none. Maximum = 400 words.

Judgment Day: I will judge this in two weeks, on November 30. If no one or only one person has responded by that day, I will lengthen the deadline by one week. If there is still only one response, that person will win the challenge.

Questions, Concerns or Thoughts?: Comment or send me a personal message.

Comments

Congratulations, TheRunawayHeart! I've selected your story as the best response!!

Here is the torch. *hands you the torch* Bear it well. :P

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Just got a chance to get back online after a very busy time. I will bear it with pride and get a challenge up!

Answer 1

The world was paradise for just a short time as the buttery sunlight seemed to float down to grace my skin where it shone through the holes in my shirt. The shirt itself had been crafted by my dear mother's hands as she sat in our tiny apartment, trying to keep clothes on me and all my siblings. If she didn't have clothes to make or diapers to change, she would do nothing but sit and worry all day about food. The worry was warranted, though. Most days we were lucky if we got a scrap of bread from the food lines before they ran out. I really should be mad at myself; being pathetic enough to think anything about the nineteen thirties was paradise. It was just that, when the sound of the bird songs are carried on the breeze, and you get that sudden shine of light between the clouds of dust that come barreling in from the plains, I can understand the thoughts of paradise dancing through my head. The dream is fading though, as the looming danger of the dust bowl storms shows it's face on the horizon. I have to hurry home before it hits, or I'll have more holes in my shirt than can be passed for decent.

Comments

This is very untypical for you, but I like it. It' very light, despite the topic and easy to read. I like how you changed between the light and dark with such ease and, even though it ended on a dark note, it still left a positive feeling. I hope that all made sense...

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I agree with Spots.
But very nice story overall.!

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Yeah, I really did leave my usual for this one, but the story did run away from me! I had been pondering it for a few days, which was strange. Usually I just read the challenge and go at it!

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I enjoyed this a lot as well. The way you, as Spots said, approached a dark topic but made it very easy to read and light. It was really well done.

Answer 2

 

There's no butter in paradise

For thirty years I've been a good boy. Studying hard, doing my homework, passing exams... As a result, I got a decent job many wold envy. People said I was lucky, ever though there was little to warrant their claim.

Then I met Laury. I did not know with what I had earned her love and it was then that I realized how truly lucky I was. She was always caring and understanding. She had gorgeous blue eyes and the softest smile. She ran a small workshop with arts and crafts supplies and often held workshops for children. We talked about weddings and kids and I thought we had a sound future together. And we probably would, if it hadn't all suddenly changed.

I got a job in Detroit and she did not want to move. We had a big argument where I said some things I would always regret and since then we just drifted apart. It was practically over that day, but we stayed together for a couple more weeks, until we finally said our goodbyes.

At the time I thought it was all for the best. I had not started missing her yet, because things were so tense that any change was good. I packed my bags and hopped on the plane to follow my dream.

The plane, however, did not get to land. Instead we crashed somewhere in Illinois. As my last seconds passed, I thought how my promising life ended up being a pathetic existance. At least Laury would not grieve for me. I thought of her dainty face and smiled.

And then I floated away.

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The rest of my story takes place in paradise, the one place I never expected to see, especially since I was not a believer. I can tell you that it's not at all like we think, all white and perfect and abundant in all you could want.

For example, would you be surprised to learn there is no butter in heaven, none at all? I know I was. I know that it's petty, but I really loved butter. And now I'll never have it again.

I think about Laury sometimes and I know now how unfair I had been to her. Perhaps this was life's way of punishing me, showing me that I made the wrong choice. And now I endure the consequences of existing without butter. Without Laury.

Comments

Odd. When I first saw the word limit, I thought it would be a breeze, I thought I wouldn't even have to count the words. Then when I got to the second part, I realized I wrote a lot and counted 415. I went back to edit, finished the story, found out I had one word left, edited that in and then I did a second word count. It was 400 even.

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Very nice. I really like the end, how you added a little bit of humor but still stayed true to the feel of the rest of the story.

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Thanks!
It actually got created the other way around. As soon as I saw the first two words, I fell in love with the title and I thought it would be a humorous story. Then I added each bit to fit a word in. I made them break up just because I didn't want him to die on her, because it wasn't supposed to be a sad story. In the end it turned out quite reflective.

Answer 3

Paradise. Aww doesnt it sound so lovely? Cant you imagine when you float on your rubber, pathetic tube you can hear the sound of your favorite song? Well I made a conclusion to these pathetic dreams. They are nothing but butter on a kitchen stove. They are nothing. Nothing. I know you may not understand where I am coming from but when you are thirty years old it all comes to you. And all of the sudden you forget these dreams. Partly, Because you cant dream anymore. All a thirty year old goes through is getting their warrant taken and then getting it back (Sometimes seemingly liked it was soaked in butter). And your husband going to a bunch of craft commites. Its stupid. Very stupid. And you hear nothing except the sound of dissappointment. Just remember, Dont dream. Just dont.

(EVERYONE SHOULD DREAM!)

Comments

Hmm. Interesting, MyWrittingSoul. I'm not sure I understand this one, however it could be that I am just too young to get it right now, as your story seems to suggest.
There are a few spelling errors I would correct, if I were you. Other than that, nice job. :)

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I know its a little confusing. Its just about how this fictional person I made up is maybe sad about being thirty and going into the old stage. And he is choosing to forget about dreams. I am only 11 years old so this has nothing to do with me but I just thought it would be creative. Thankyou! :)

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Before I read your comment, I was gonna say you're not thirty, are you. XD Trust me, it's really not that old. I guess I understand what you were trying to say and I think you did a fairly good job of it. It does get a bit confusing, but it's someone's thoughts, it's bound to be like that.
And in the end I really want to say (like you yourself pointed out) - absolutely do dream. And then make your dreams come true.

Answer 4

This is pathetic, but it warrants thought. Butter up thirty unsound crafty politicians who understand nothing, then suddenly float them away forever. Paradise!

Comments

I bow to you, sir or madam.

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Perfect!

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That was excellent Saxon! Very cool.

Answer 5

Rest My Friend

As I slowly climbed  the thirty steps to my third floor apartment the muffled sounds of my neighbors existence float through the air. It had been a trying day at work and the prospect of it suddenly getting any better were not good. Insert key, turn knob, open door and not a sole to greet me. It has been three months since my friend, companion, and little ball of fur drew her last breath. I knew that I would miss her dearly, but is this much greif warranted for a four legged pal who did not judge and was always glad to greet me at the door? I understand clearly why the non pet owners of the world would eagerly play the pathetic card, so I try and keep my feelings bottled up to the best of my ability. Coat over the back of the couch, toss the keys and give the mail a once over it seems normal enough but it's not. I wish I could just flip a switch and suddenly find acceptence but that is still a ways off. As I ease into my old easy chair my eyes begin to water as I think back to the first day that I picked up that stray starving kitten from the sidewalk in front of my apartment. She was not in the mood to be friends with anyone and there was no exception to be made with me. Her name Sassy was deservedly bestowed. It took a couple of months to craft an arrangement that both of us could live with. But live we did for eleven years. We had our ups and downs like any couple but at the end of the day paradise was always achieved when she would sit and stare at me until I would put her favorite blanket on my lap and she would assume the curled up position. She always knew just what buttons to push to butter me up and get a positive out come for her. I place the blanket on my lap fully knowing that it will not have a guest tonight. As the memories come flooding back, I know  tonight will be the same as the past few nights. Life goes on do the best you can.

Comments

This is so sad! This story really touched me (I am very much an animal person), and I totally felt this character's pain. I'm very impressed by this, considering it is your first response on the site. Very nice job!

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Beautiful! Anyone who's known the loss of a cherished pet will identify with this.  I love the story. Welcome to Thinkwrite! On the grammar/spelling front, you may want to look at *neighbors'* (with an apostrophe), *soul* and *grief*.

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"Coat over the back of the couch, toss the keys and give the mail a once over it seems normal enough but it's not." That sentence just says so much.  Thanks for sharing and welcome to ThinkWrite.

Answer 6

I grew up in Malibu, just a few minutes walk from Paradise Cove. I thought I knew the ocean. I was wrong. From the time I was a small child, I had lived with this surfers' utopia, this gentle ocean where you could float on waves like milk and melted butter. I didn't have any way to know how cold and cruel the ocean could be. Not until I married Neil and moved to Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia.

It all sounded so idyllic. East coast. Ocean breeze. And it was idyllic, until you factored in the human cost. Remember, if you choose to live here, your husband most likely makes makes a living from the sea, as does mine. Right now, Neil is (I very much hope) on a small fishing trawler, somewhere in Lancaster Sound, chasing Cod. Next time you eat a fish-stick, take a moment to consider the risk involved in bringing it to you.

When I came here, I didn't understand the preoccupation with the weather, but now I think I do... or I'm beginning to, at least. A sudden squall... a small craft warning... and slowly all the wives came together at the church. To pray, to hope, to stand together to support each other through what many of them knew was to come.

Neil's great grandfather had been a warrant officer with the Royal Navy and had been killed during WWI without ever knowing that he was a father. His grandfather, a pilot, had been shot down in the late days of WWII. He had, at least, known that his wife had given birth, but never had the opportunity to meet his first and only son. Neil never met his father. A drunk driver ran a red light late one night. Neil's father died only a few rooms away from where his wife was giving birth. 

It's pathetic, I know, but it feels as if I've aged a decade over the past thirty one hours. No one should have to live through this, but as I sit here in the church with all the other wives, it seems that I'm the only one who can't seem to accept the inevitable.

Oh, dear God... if there is a God... and if He's listening... please, don't let it happen again. I'm due in June. Please... three generations is enough. Please... my baby needs a father... please...

Comments

Hm, I'm not quite sure how to comment on this, so I'll just say what my current impression is. It's sad, it's touching, but I just don't /feel/ it. I can't figure out why. Maybe it's something in the tone, maybe it's in the flow, but I read the words without emotions. I'd blame it on my mood, but I read Dogsout's story just now and that I did feel. You are an amazing writer and I love reading your stories, but this one just didn't get through to me. I'll say once more that I can't find anything wrong with it, so for all I know, it's my interpretation that's lacking. I'm curious as to what others will say.

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Hmm. I love this story. It's very well done and it did touch me. I can see why Spots would feel as she does, however. The tone, until the very end, is more factual and not as emotional as it could be I think. But nevertheless, I did love this a lot. Great job Kismet!

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Yup, I agree with you, Spots. Something's definitely missing, I'm just not seeing how it needs to be changed. I've been playing around with it for about a week, but nothing seemed to be helping so I figured I'd just post it as it is and see if anyone had any suggestions. I know there's emotion there - I felt her pain while I was writing - but it's too deeply buried in the text. I tried having her reveal her pregnancy at the outset, but that just ended up making her sound too weak. I wanted her to be strong, trying to face the situation with the same acceptance as everyone else, but just not quite able to hold in her fears at the end. The matter-of-fact narration is her way of trying to hold back emotions that are threatening to (and eventually do) overwhelm her. I know, none of that comes across in the writing, but that's what was in my mind. I tried adding in emotion earlier along, but it just kept turning into a sob story and that's not what I wanted.

I also seem to have inadvertently transplanted Peggy's Cove to Newfoundland. Oops! I'll go in now and put it back in Nova Scotia where it belongs... ;-)

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Maybe you just succeeded in exactly the thing you were trying to do. She is doing her best to hold back her emotions and that's what the reader sees. If she doesn't show us what's in her mind, there's no way we can know.
I've been thinking of a way to get around that. To get into her head to that emotion and I think I have an idea. I think you can't get it from her words, because she's not letting it on and the last paragraph won't undo the rest of the text. I think what you can do instead is switch to third person and let us know as a narrator what's really going on. Hope that helps.

Answer 7

I Ate Butter

Today, I ate thirty burgers, butter and salad, then I went to school because the school bus was there. Then, when I got to school, we made crafts. When I got home, I heard a sound but I didn’t understand it. I went outside and I saw that the sound was an animal. It was a rabbit. Then I played Animal Paradise on my computer. Then my mom said to dress up because we were going to see Santa Claus in his float at the Santa Claus Parade because it was almost Christmas. Suddenly I heard the noise again when we were at the parade. I saw a poor, wet dog. So that’s what I heard. He was barking for help. It was a pathetic sight. Then, when I took the dog home, he was healthy and happy. Then I heard a noise from a police car. There was one car that bumped into another car. It wasn’t really a warrant arrest, it was just an accident. It was a happy day because now I have a pet dog.

Comments

Note from Ms. D:
This story was written by only one of my students. He is eight years old and has only been in Canada for a few months. I am very proud of how fast he is learning English!

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Wow, that is great. I can't believe you are only eight years old and just learning English. That is amazing.
I like how the title gets my attention right off the bat. Usually I don't read these in the e-mail that I get, but with this one, once I saw the title I felt like I had to read it right away!
Excellent job young man. I'm very impressed by your work. :)