We wait together (for 5.25.11)

We wait, stuffed in a hot, reeking train car. My arms are pinned to my side by the bodies of the women around me. We wait anxiously, not knowing what the future holds. We wait alone, each withdrawn into ourselves. We wait frightened. So many have been killed, will we be among the slaughtered?

The doors are thrown open by SS men. Blows from clubs, whips, fists and bayonets rain over our heads. Shouts of “Out, out!” stun us. Panicked, we squeeze out the door.

A dock yard? That gives us no answers to our fate!

We wait together.

Where's the screen? (for 5.24.11)

She looks at me, slightly surprised. “Do you even know what it is?” she asks.

“Yup, it’s a typewriter!”

“Well I certainly didn’t expect to sell it to someone so young. You’re gonna look like a candidate for that wheelchair!” With a smile she gestured towards the wheelchair parked in their driveway.

“How much do you want for it?” I inquire.

“For that….hmmm, probably ten dollars.” My face breaks out into a huge smile.

“Ten dollars? I’ll take it!”

“I’m still surprised that a girl your age would know how to use a typewriter! I would guess that most kids would ask, ‘where’s the screen?’”

5.28.11 Special Day

It had been prepared in the flour, soaked in the oil, and placed in the box, all within a matter of minutes. The scent wafted towards my nose, and I inhaled deeply. Scallops. Yum. I’d never been this close to one before, nor had I placed one on my eager taste buds. Once there, we knocked on the door, the proper thing to do.
“Come in…”
“Happy Birthday, Mrs. Magoon!”
She inhaled deeply, squealing with delight.
“Oh, scallops! Thank you!”
On the way home we received a text message.
“I’m in heaven, thanks to them all.”
Scallops just made her day.

5.27.11 Searching Forever

We search through the vastness of space for something – anything that can prove that we’re not alone. We fly our ships in erotic patterns in the desperate hope that the randomness will somehow aid our searches. We used to be very meticulous in our probing, but that was long ago. Over the centuries we have grown careless, sloppy even. Honestly, I think we have given up. Floating past long dead stars and burned out planets, we have seen far too much lifelessness to truly believe that there is hope.

It is difficult living without hope.

We know we are alone.

Extreme (for 5.23.11)

On my way to a friend’s house, I pass a place that makes me shiver: an abortion center. My heart shivers as I think about how many young mothers have killed their babies out of fear, embarrassment, and confusion.

Parked in front of the building was a van with a sign in the back window. The words on the sign are extreme. Extremely thought provoking, extremely sad, and yet extremely angering. The Killing Place.

Those words are disturbing, but true. In that place they end magnificent lives, before they begin. Those babies may have been mistakes for the parents, but they were no mistake to God.

5.27.11 Colours

He walked towards the kingdom, his face forlorn and his body weary. As he looked ahead, the end of his journey, the kingdom, finally came into view. It had been a long journey, and he was tired, but when he entered the gates he relaxed, for he saw brilliant colors that he had never seen before. A beautiful pallet of yellows that matched the deepest and richest lazy susans, pinks of the brightest and most brilliant sunset, and purples of the richest robe. He walked through the winding streets of the kingdom, awestruck by the powerful beauty.

He was home.

5.27.11 shatter - a drabble of 100 words

[nostalgia: from the Greek words nostos which means “homecoming” and algos which means “pain”]

When I remember the autumn sky filled with stars, the beach with the waves sparkling in the sun right before they crash on the shore, the silent snows, the soggy springtime earth; when I recall the faces that I love, those close enough to hug and those who reside now only in my heart, the dear faces so changed and yet still the same; I feel a painful twist in my belly. It makes sense now, that aching to go back.

[that’s why it’s called nostalgia]

Weekly Words - Week 4

Hello Writers,

Yep. I kinda knew this would be how it would go down. Every Thursday, right before it turns into Friday, I remember "Hey it's Thursday!" (long pause) Oh. I think I am supposed to send out the Weekly Words assignment." Yep. Pretty much how it happened every Thursday and tonight was no exception.

Except tonight marks the last Weekly Words assignment. So, without further ado, here is it. "Colours". [Yes, that is the British spelling. Please use it.]

Can't wait to see what you write!

Nicole

5.26.11 wisp - a drabble of 100 words

The gentle beauty of a well-kept garden, rimmed round with rocks dug up from the yard. The stately kindness of old homes, built in the days of my great-great-grandparents. The gentle spring breeze, ripe with hints of summer, tickling my hair, heavy with lilac scent. The echo of birds chattering merrily as they bustle from treetop to treetop. The smile of a neighbor sitting on his porch as I walk past. The soothing sound of water trickling in a front yard fountain. You can keep your marble halls, your diamond palaces, your glittering gold. I have springtime in New England.

NEXT 5.26.2011

We’re getting ready. We’re leaving at four in the morning. Excitement is mounting. We are driving down to Florida and having a road trip! 

NEXT here we come! 

I’m looking forward to having this refresher in Christ. I have heard such great things about this conference. Like Youth Camp only on jumper cables. 

But first we have the over twenty-four hour car trip until we get to Florida and the conference! 

I’m looking forward to the car trip though. I love car trips with friends. 

Strangely I’m not overly excited…. but I think that will come in the morning. 

5.26.11 Merchants of Mercy

They called themselves merchants of mercy. They traveled the world with their instruments of deliverance. They promised peace and escape from the pain that so often accompanied the final moments of life.

They gave no choice to those they came to save. Once the life expectancy date was labeled on a dying man’s file, they were there, knocking at the door to relieve him of his final days of misery (or happiness). And there was no denying them.

They came with their needles. And they left in sudden silence.

They call it mercy. But murder is a far better word.

Roller-coaster ride (for 5.22.11)

I stare at the menacing roller-coaster. My eyes widen and I question the sanity of the choice I am making. My feet move robotically as I near the short line. I hop into the little car and it starts to move. My mind whirls. What am I doing? This is a poor life decision! Oh, what am I doing?

The car stops at the bottom of the hill. This hill goes straight up, then straight down, WHAT AM I DOING?! The ride starts the long climb up the giant hill. I hold my breath, and then we drop, and I scream.

Yes, Veronica, they have. (for 5.20.11)

I was in the kitchen fixing a snack for the little girl I babysat. She wanted peanut butter and apples, because, as she informed me several times, it was Joe Jonas’s favorite food. I turn to the table were she was sitting, and she’s not there. I call her name several times, but there’s no answer.

As I’m walking to the stairs to call her again, I hear, “Rachel, have the eyes on the back of your head grown in yet?” I run up the stairs and see her sitting at the computer, with her hand hovering over the mouse.

Tornado Warning (for 5.19.11)

The sky was frightfully green and the clouds were swirling. I looked through the mall’s glass ceiling, amazed. Then over the speakers came a warning:

For your safety, please move down to the lowest level of the mall. For your safety, please…

The warning came over and over again. Slowly we made our way to the lowest floor of the mall: Marshalls (I very much dislike Marshalls). We walked down the steps to the already crowded store. Roughly one-hundred people were jammed into the dirty store, in the lowest level of the mall. There’s nothing like a Minnesota tornado warning.

5.26.11-so fast

It happened so fast. It was just a game of frisbee. It wasn't even a very competitive game. And suddenly you were down, unable to bear the pain. “I broke it, didn't I?” And suddenly your whole summer was changed. “I guess I won't be practicing my left handed dribbling.” There was nothing like knowing the distant sirens were coming to take you. You could see the bone out of place. The adrenaline rush. The shock sinking in. Your groans of pain were heartbreaking. I am so sorry my dear friend. It's still surreal, it happened so fast.