Between Now and Then – A Trifecta Weekend Challenge

The Trifecta challenge was to use three words ( remember, rain, rebellion ) to make a complete 36-word response.

Without further ado, I introduce:

Between Now and Then

History would not treat the vanquished kindly in this rebellion. Measuring the distance across the blood soaked field, pocked by rain and shells, he waited for the command and tried to remember ebullient times during childhood.

The Unlikely Hero – A Write at the Merge Prompt

The writing prompt this week from Write at the Merge is legs. The prompt included a photograph and a Justin Timberlake video.

For your reading enjoyment, I introduce:

The Unlikely Hero

Virginia sat at the edge of her bed and re-read the letter from the White House. Looking up, she watched the young lieutenant through the open bedroom door, her thumb gently gliding across President Truman’s signature several times. She noticed his impatience had become more noticeable as he awaited her reply in the living-room.

Sighing deeply, she thought: There can only be the one reply—any other would be foolhardy and dangerous. Looking at her legs, she remembered how her life had changed in 1933 while a clerk in the U.S. Embassy in Turkey. We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we ‘Cuthbert?’ she mused, tapping her left leg with her hand before standing up. With a noticeable limp, she walked over to her desk and sat down and picked up the pen.

_____

Virginia’s high intelligence and language proficiency had not gone unnoticed at the Embassy in 1933. A career in Foreign Service—her lifelong goal—was within reach.

On March 20, everything changed.

Hunting wild boar with friends in the Kizilcahaman District of Ankara, Virginia stumbled and shot herself in the leg. Though they managed to stop the bleeding, the grueling two mile trek back to their vehicle had taken its toll.

A few days later in Ankara Numune Hospital, she learned the bad news: the surgeons had amputated her leg below the knee.

When she was finally fitted with a wooden prosthesis, she immediately called it ‘Cuthbert’ after Saint Cuthbert, whose feast day was March 20. After difficult weeks of therapy, she walked out of the hospital and into an uncertain future.

Since an amputee could not be employed in the Foreign Service, her convalescence bubbled over with despair and confusion.

For several years, she backpacked throughout the Mediterranean. When the Germans invaded France on May 23, 1940, she was in Paris. Itching to get involved, she drove an ambulance for the French Army before fleeing to England.

Learning that the British Special Operations Executive was having difficulty recruiting, she volunteered to become a spy. Sent back to Vichy France under the guise of an American reporter, she worked under several aliases to organize French Resistance to carry out sabotage and guerilla warfare while writing articles for the New York Post. She barely missed capture by the Gestapo when one of the resistance cells she worked with was compromised. She escaped over the treacherous, snow covered Pyrenees to Spain.

Hearing of her exploits, the newly formed American Office of Strategic Services (OSS), recruited her and in 1944, prosthesis secured in her knapsack, she was parachuted into France to coordinate sabotage operations with the D-day landings.

_____

Sealing her reply in the envelope, Virginia went out to the living-room and handed it to the lieutenant.

Later, opening the middle drawer of her desk, she pulled out a Gestapo reward poster: WANTED – DEAD OR ALIVE – THE LIMPING LADY.

To preserve her cover in the newly created CIA, she received the Distinguished Service Cross without publicity.

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Alistair McBubble – A Write at the Merge Prompt

There were two photos to reflect on at Write at the Merge. The creative prompt offers up…somethings…for your inspirational pleasure. The idea is to find where it intersects for you and write on. Sometimes it will be one, sometimes both.

For all you Scottish folk, I hope I have not embarrassed myself too much. I tried my best to get it right.

For your reading enjoyment, I present:

Tartan HatAlistair McBubble

Alistair McBubble was born to Florrie and Hugh on March 14, 2013 at precisely 9:47:15 A.M.  After delivery, Doctor McAlister completed a few preliminary tests and assured them that Alistair was indeed spherical in shape.

“Ur ye sure? Florrie asked. “Withit ‘at shape …weel…Ah dornt want tae…’at shape ensures he has th’ minimum surface energy an’ th’—“

“Lowest ratio ay surface area tae volume,” interjected Dr. McAlister. “A ken aw ay ‘at.”

Furrows formed at the bridge of Florrie’s nose. She peered at him with a look of consternation. “If ay min’ correctly, doctur, ye said ‘at affair.”

“Florrie!  Dornt pinch yer foreheid loch ‘at,” Doctor McAlister commanded. Softening her expression, she looked up at him. “Florrie, ah test fur th’ Marangoni effect, if ‘at makes ye feel better.”

“It woods,” she retorted.

“Ah will gie Hugh.”

Hugh and Florrie remained on pins and needles—figuratively speaking—waiting for the results. When the doctor returned and told them that the surface tension on Alistair was stable, they were overjoyed.

“Och, Hugh, we finally hae a perfect McBubble.”

“Och aye,” rejoined Hugh, puffing his chest out with pride, “we dae.”

“Dornt gie carried awa’ thaur Hugh,” warned the doctor.

Hugh’s face took on a dismayed appearance that alarmed Florrie.

“Whit in heaven’s nam is wrang, Hugh?” she pleaded.

Speechless, he pointed to the location beside Florrie.

“Ack!” Florrie screamed. “He’s taken flecht.”

Alistair’s choice would have been to remain with his parents but his destiny was ordained the moment that gust of wind swopped him up and ushered him off.

As Alistair wiped away his tears, a deep voice startled him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Glancing back, Alistair saw two bubbles coming up quickly behind him. “An’, wa nae?” he asked, perturbed by this interruption.

“Because… it doesn’t matter now…you’ve already done it. I was just going to say it would thin out your surface.”

“An’, wa shoods ’at matter?” Alistair replied snootily.

“He doesn’t know anything, Albert,” giggled the girl. “He even talks funny.”

“Fa ur  ye tois anyway?” Alistair asked, unable to hide his displeasure with her comments.

“I’m Albert and she’s my sister, Alicia. I can see you’re interested in what I’m doing.” He held up the miniature chalkboard.

Alistair nodded and moved closer.

“Not too close.” Pointing at his chalkboard he said:”It’s an equation.”

“Whit diz it dae?” Alistair asked with great interest.

“Oh!” Alicia interrupted. No longer giggling, she pointed at Alistair. “His color has changed. He was bluish-green when we arrived and he’s now more yellow.”

“We must get out of the sun.”

“What’s happenin’? Aam almost colorless.”

“The film that formed you is much thinner. That’s why…”

Looking at each other, their faces filled with anguish.

Albert pointed to the old castle below. “We must hide there until dark…maybe…”

POP! POP! POP!

Fyles Leaf Bed – A Write at the Merge Prompt

Write at the Merge is a creative writing prompt that provides two prompt ideas. Write a response-up to 500 words-using either or both of the ideas.

This week we’re honoring the genius of Dr. Suess, who was born on March 2, 1904.  Our two Seussical offerings are an image and a line from one of his books. Happy writing!

“I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees for the trees have no tongues.”
Dr. Seuss, from The Lorax

Without further ado the non-fiction fiction: Continue reading

Within the Moment- A Trifecta Writing Challenge

In continuing the writing challenge adventure, I’ve chosen to participate in this weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge: 33 words written in first person narrative. For more information on the prompt (and Trifecta in general) please visit their website.

Now, for your enjoyment and reflection:

Within the Moment- A Trifecta Writing Challenge

Eyes touch and caress each other across a crowded room engorging my mind with a rush of forbidden thoughts that quickly flutter away to await another dream-scape when I take my child’s hand.

The Mutton Dinner – A Trifecta Writing Challenge

In continuing last week’s writing challenge adventure, I’ve chosen to also participate in the Trifecta Writing Challenge! For more information on the prompt (and Trifecta in general) please visit their website.

Without further ado:

The Mutton Dinner – A Trifecta Writing Challenge

Continue reading

The Moment – a Write on Edge Prompt

Four hours he had made her practice! Four goddamn hours! Until she defiantly screamed out: “Papa! I don’t want to be a ballerina! I will never be one! Do you hear? Never!”  Stomping her foot, she crossed her arms tightly across her chest and purposely took on a belligerent stance.

The room flooded with anger so palpable it almost smothered her with its intensity. Attempting to flee ahead of him, she lost as he caught her in mid-flight and began to shake and hit her.

Too absorbed in protecting her head and getting free, Angelina barely heard him.

Her father stayed with her and kept repeating his truth; a dogma that snapped at the air like the gnashing teeth of a vicious, rabid dog.

“I promised her! You have no choice!” he yelled over and over again as he struck her.

Continue reading