All I could think of at first was the children’s song, ‘The head bone’s connected to the neck bone …’ and it took me a while to come up with an idea. Once I got an idea, the ending eluded me. I finally decided to go all-out horror, which is unusual for me, to follow up my entry Beware or Be Scared in the Halloweensie Contest run by Susanna Leonard Hill. That entry was meant to be as Halloween humorous as it was scary. I hope it succeeded. On its own, this one may lack the humour. I hope you ‘enjoy’ it anyway.
Make No Bones About It
“Go and get changed.”
“But, Muuuum —”
“You will not go to the party dressed like that.”
“Why?”
“It’s not appropriate.”
“But it’s dress up. It’s Halloween!”
“Yes! A skeleton or a ghost. Not a princess. Princesses don’t do Halloween.”
“If I can’t be a princess, I’m not —” The door slammed to punctuate her sentence perfectly.
Mum shook her head. She was teased enough, without being a princess on Halloween.
The following morning, when bones found in the middle of a mystery sticky stinky sludge were identified as her bullies, Margie and Mum gave thanks for their disagreement.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
In the post, Charli explained the prompt as being inspired by ‘the beautiful Ojibwe greeting of “aanii.” It means, “I see the light in you.”’ Charli suggested it was a great way to greet people, to see their light and avoid judging them. I imagined it as a saying shared by a family over generations. This is a different response from my recent playful ones. I hope it works, nonetheless.
Gran’s Inside Light
Jamie squeezed his hands and clenched his knees, as if that might still his churning belly and stop his heavy heart from falling. Like recycled paper, his thoughts were all mushed up. They said Gran was sick. She mightn’t get better. What did that even mean? Gloom dragged his face into a frown.
“You can see her now,” said Mum. Jamie looked up, questioning. Mum simply nodded. Jamie tentative step-by-stepped, hopeful, fearful, step-by-step.
“Gran?” he whispered. Dull eyes flickered. This isn’t Gran. Gran’s eyes sparkled.
Jamie trembled. “Where’s Gran’s inside light?” Mum hugged him. “In you and everywhere now.”
Jamie sniffled and wiped his face with his sleeve. He and Mum weren’t the only ones crying. Everyone at Gran’s graveside was crying. Even the umbrellas cried teardrops of rain that fell from darkened skies, as if the whole world was grieving his Gran. As the final words were spoken, the clouds parted to let the sun shine through and paint the biggest and brightest rainbow Jamie had ever seen. He squeezed his mother’s hand and pointed. “Look, Mum. There’s Gran’s light.” Everyone looked. Umbrellas were folded and smiles lit faces with joy remembering a life well-lived and loved.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt For the Water can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
As a child, I enjoyed playing with my tea sets. It was fun lining up my toys and having tea parties. I remember two tea sets from my childhood. One was a pretty little floral set made of china. The other was red and white plastic.
I remember sitting on the back steps one day when I was about three, washing my china cups and saucers. Perhaps I was getting ready for a tea party or cleaning up after one. I’m not sure. But while I was sitting there, busily at my work, Dad came out and didn’t see my pretty little cups and stood right on them, smashing them into little pieces. He was very apologetic and, surprisingly, I was very forgiving. He would tell the story many times later about how I’d looked up at him and said, “It’s okay, Dad. You didn’t mean to.” I think the adult me could learn a lot about forgiveness from the little me.
As an adult, I consider a very special treat to be a high tea with its cucumber and smoked salmon finger sandwiches, fresh baked scones with jam and cream, and a selection of petit fours. I have enjoyed a number of these over the years, usually in very special locations for very special occasions.
I remember having one with my mum and other family members to celebrate her 90th birthday at a restaurant she had enjoyed going to with her mother when she was growing up. It was definitely a special treat and an occasion to remember.
I’ve allowed some of these ‘special’ thoughts to influence my response to Charli’s prompt as I add another event to Amy and Lucy’s imaginative play. I hope you enjoy it.
The Tea Party
Ollie said the table looked divine. Teddy agreed, adding the fairy cakes were the prettiest and sweetest he’d ever tasted, and the tea was the perfect temperature. Amy and Lucy beamed. The tea party to welcome the happy couple home from their honeymoon was a success. Everyone was there. It was all going swimmingly, until a balloon popped. Ellie started, upsetting the teapot with her flailing trunk and whipping the cakes from their stand. Monkey screeched. Bunny watched tea puddle under the table.
“I’ve ruined the party,” wailed Ellie.
“It’s okay, Ellie,” said Lucy. “No one’s hurt. Nothing’s broken.”
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Broken Arm, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
I’m pleased to say that I’ve never had a broken bone. I hope that continues to be true for the rest of my days. Breaks can become more frequent as we age. So far as I know, neither parent had a broken arm, though my brother did when he was five (a big boy fell on him) and my daughter did when she was eleven (an accident at gymnastics caused by a younger child). So, with no personal experience, I’ve stayed with Amy and Lucy and their imaginative play. It’s wet outside, so they’re playing indoors – no red convertible this time.
Teddy’s Broken Arm
The waiting room was crowded. As usual, Doctor Amy was running late.
Nurse Lucy looked at the list. “Teddy!” she called.
Teddy was hugging his arm, trying to stifle tears.
“What appears to be the problem?” asked Doctor Amy, looking over her glasses.
“I think my arm’s broken.”
“Nurse Lucy, we need an x-ray,” said Doctor Amy.
The x-ray agreed with Teddy. Doctor and nurse plastered his arm with plasticene and tied it in a handkerchief sling.
“Lunch time,” said Mum. “Oh, what’s wrong with Teddy?”
“He’s got a broken arm,” said Amy.
“Just a fake one,” said Lucy.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Mud on the Tires, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
In her post, Charli says ‘I guess this seems similar to balloons on a bumper. It differs, though. Mud is real. Balloons are temporary hopes and dreams susceptible to popping. Mud can stain. Mud can wash away. Mud says, “You’ve been places, Kiddo.”’
For my response, I have continued with my red convertible story with the girls Amy and Lucy playing imaginatively in their back yard with their toys and whatever else is available. (I have included the previous two stories at the end, in case you’d like to read them together.)
In the last episode, the girls had balloons on their bumper as they travelled to celebrate the wedding of their toys Teddy and Ollie. The balloons, as Charli says, were temporary. In this third episode, they have been replaced by empty cans. But the girls and their toys, including the tyres of their red convertible, have been covered with mud. The mud does say that they have been places. It also says they have had fun, used their imaginations and been creative — three things I consider to be very important in life. I hope this mud sticks, not only for them, but for everyone.
A note about tires. In Australia tires means to grow sleepy and tyres refers to the black rubber things on the wheels of a car. Hence the change in spelling.
I hope you enjoy my story.
Mud on the Tyres
After the wedding, Teddy and Ollie scrunched into the back of the little red convertible.
As Amy and Lucy drove them away from the faraway forest, the guests cheered and threw confetti. The empty cans, now replacing balloons on the bumper, clattered across the wooden bridge and scattered gravel along the mountain trail.
At the honeymoon resort, Teddy and Ollie splashed in the pool first, but they were overexcited, and the grounds were soon a mucky muddy mess.
When Mother called, ‘Dinnertime!’, the girls were mud-spattered, from the hair on their heads to their convertible’s tyres.
‘Coming!’ they replied.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Here are the two previous episodes of this story.
The Little Red Convertible (Episode 1)
“Where to today?” asked Amy.
“Over the mountains, across the river, and through the far-away forest,” said Lucy.
“Be home in time for dinner,” said Mother.
“We will!”
The little red convertible chugged to the peak of the highest mountain where the children danced in clouds. It rolled through misty valleys and onto the plain where the children played hide-and-seek in patchwork fields. It trundled across the wooden bridge over the river that led to the forest where they fluttered with fairies and pranced with unicorns.
Rumbling bellies told them to head for home.
“Just in time,” said Mother.
Balloons on the Bumper (Episode 2)
“Where to today?” asked Amy.
“A party,” said Lucy, tying balloons to the bumper of their little red convertible.
“Whose party?”
“Teddy’s. He’s getting married.”
“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”
“He doesn’t. He has a unicorn-friend. Mother said I can marry anyone I want. So, Teddy can too.”
“Right. Which way?”
“Over the mountains, across the river, and through the far-away forest.”
“Be home for dinner,” said Mother.
“We will!”
The balloons sailed above the little red car. At the party, the children fluttered with fairies and pranced with unicorns as Teddy and Ollie shared their vows.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Balloons on a Bumper, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
The prompt reminded me of an occasion just over twenty years ago, when my sister, niece and I attended a ‘hen’s party’ (terrible term) for my future sister in-law. My niece collected a bunch of helium-filled balloons to take home. She couldn’t squeeze them all into the car, and I drove home with one balloon sailing above us and my sister and niece both in hysterics all the way. Needless to say, they’d both had a few drinks to help the merriment. When we got home, my daughter and nephew, both early teens, decided to inhale the helium, and the hilarity began all over again.
“A party,” said Lucy, tying balloons to the bumper of their little red convertible.
“Whose party?”
“Teddy’s. He’s getting married.”
“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”
“He doesn’t. He has a unicorn-friend. Mother said I can marry anyone I want. So, Teddy can too.”
“Right. Which way?”
“Over the mountains, across the river, and through the far-away forest.”
“Be home for dinner,” said Mother.
“We will!”
The balloons sailed above the little red car. At the party, the children fluttered with fairies and pranced with unicorns as Teddy and Ollie shared their vows.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Swimmingly, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
A perfect summer’s day: azure sky with not a hint of cloud, a whispering breeze to kiss away humidity, children’s laughter sparkling like glitter; it was all going swimmingly, until …
Kevin kicked furiously, and …
the tube crashed. Tina tipped heels over head, chipping Chelsea’s chin, as she smacked into the water.
Chelsea fell against Liam, who yelled, “Get off me!” as they splashed down.
The three resurfaced together, and grabbed the tube, catapulting Kevin overhead, arms and legs flailing, into the water.
“Wow!” “That’s fun!” “Do it to me!” “I’m first!”
It was all going swimmingly …
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt the red convertible, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
When I was a child, my uncle, who was probably in his early thirties and single at the time, had a red convertible. His name was Royal (Royal Albert, no less) and I thought he looked like Elvis Presley. He had a great sense of humour, and when he laughed, he did so with his whole body. Whenever he came to visit, we kids would beg him for a ride. He always complied. We felt like royalty as he whizzed us around the block, the wind in our hair, smiling as wide as the Pacific. It was Royal fun!
Charli did say to go where the prompt leads, and how could I write a post about a red convertible without paying respects to my uncle and the only times I got to ride in a red convertible, or any convertible for that matter. Sadly, we lost Royal twenty years ago to melanoma, a terrible disease that takes too many lives here in Queensland.
From memoir to fiction.
The Little Red Convertible V1
Teddy plumped into the driver’s seat. Ollie squished beside.
“Where’re we going, Teddy?”
“Somewhere far away, where the flowers bloom and the birds sing and the sky’s the prettiest blue.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
“Close your eyes and we’ll be there before you know it,” said Teddy.
The little red convertible zoomed past dancing horses and gilded carriages.
“Do you see it?” asked Teddy.
“It’s beautiful!” whispered Ollie, not wanting to break the magic.
When the little red convertible stopped, Ollie asked, “Can we go again?”
“Anytime,” said Teddy. “Just close your eyes and imagine.”
When I was writing that one, I was thinking of a little red car on a carousel. However, I couldn’t find an image to match. I quite liked the image of the two children and the pedal car, so I thought I’d have another go. For this one, I was thinking of playing imaginatively in the backyard or playground. I don’t think either are really what I could call finished, though each is 99 words, as is Royal’s Red Convertible, but I’ve run out of time. Let me know which you prefer.
The Little Red Convertible V2
“Where to today?” asked Amy.
“Over the mountains, across the river, and through the far-away forest,” said Lucy.
“Be home in time for dinner,” said Mother.
“We will!”
The little red convertible chugged to the peak of the highest mountain where the children danced in clouds. It rolled through misty valleys and onto the plain where the children played hide-and-seek in patchwork fields. It trundled across the wooden bridge over the river that led to the forest where they fluttered with fairies and pranced with unicorns.
Rumbling bellies told them to head for home.
“Just in time,” said Mother.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
“Look at that,” one mother tut-tutted. “So shameful.”
“What is?”
“That. I’d be totally ashamed to send my child to school looking like that.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Unfortunately, our children have to mix with the likes of that. Have people no shame?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by the likes of that. Our world is enriched by diversity. The more the better, I say. It’s true some people have no shame. Nor should they. They should be proud of who they are. Except for the likes of you. You’re shameless. Shame on you.”
“Well, I —”
“Never. Obviously.”
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Floppy as Puppy Ears, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
I’m always pleased that Charli says to ‘Go where the prompt leads!’ because that’s just where I go. It’s especially important to me this week as I have a few other distractions and thought I wouldn’t have time to respond, especially when I don’t know anything about puppy’s ears, let alone floppy ones. Anyway, it made me think of other comparisons, and that’s where I went — some familiar, some silly, some fun, and some special. I hope.
My other distractions will be keeping me away from your blogs for a while, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. See you then!
As floppy as puppy ears
As floppy as puppy ears
As cute as a button
As happy as Larry
As cranky as a hippopotamus
As ripe as a banana
As silly as a sausage on a stick
As weird as a walrus (but don’t tell it I said so)
As tall as a giraffe
As small as a flea
As funny as a giggle
As rude as a fart
As crazy as a top hat on a donkey
As scary as the dark unknown
As awesome as a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis
As amazing as children’s imaginations
And, as wonderful …
As you!
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt The One Who Left the Dress, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
Norah Colvin 