Category Archives: Writing

Waiting #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about waiting. Where does this waiting take place? Does it have a past or a future outcome? Who is waiting and why? Go where the prompt leads!

For my response, I have tried to show that the waiting can feel different from different perspectives. I’m not sure if I achieved that, but I hope my story doesn’t gross some of you lovely readers out like last week’s ‘flakes’ story. 😂😉

I’m Bored

“For Christmas,” said Mum.

“But it’s a looooong time,” said Jamie.

“Not long enough,” said Dad. “Only three more pay days.”

“Wait till you’re my age,” said Grandpa. “It’ll be gone in a blink.”

“But there’s nothing to do,” said Jamie.

“When I was your age,” said Grandpa. “we’d be out all day, playing until dark.”

“Mum won’t let me go anywhere. Dad says no screens until after dinner. It’s boring.”

“Tell you what, kiddo. How’s about you and me take a walk and do some exploring. What d’you say?”

“Can I, Mum?”

“Sure. It’ll do us all good.”

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Flakes, including my gross one, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

And just to let you know that life is pretty hectic for me at the moment so I may not get to visit you as often as usual, but I’ll still be thinking of you and will visit as often as I can. Thanks for your understanding.

Flakes #99Wordstories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using the word or idea, flakes. What or who is a flake? Is there tension or phenomenon that is creating flakes? Can flakes be massive or minute? Go to your flakiest memories for living images to play with. Go where the prompt leads!

This is where I went. I hope you enjoy it.

Retro Black Light Disco

On their first date, Paul took Josie to the Retro Black Light Disco. She’d heard about it but never been, so was curious. “Wear something white. You’ll really stand out,” her older friends advised. Josie was amused that Paul dressed all in black, as usual, but guessed some habits were hard to break. Josie absolutely glowed under the lights, but Paul virtually disappeared. Until he turned around, looking like he’d brought a glowworm army on his back. Josie started to say, “How beautiful!” when she realised they were flakes of dandruff. “Gross,” she thought. “I’ve seen enough,” she said.

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Cryptozoology, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

A Cryptozoologist #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a cryptozoologist. Who is this character? What cryptids do they research and why? Are they serious about their work, skeptical, or scheming to fool others? Go where the prompt leads!

For my story, I’ve gone back to the family reunion for another take with Jodie and the dark stranger. Like Josie, I’d never heard of a cryptozoologist before. Do they really exist?

The Cryptozoologist

Josie and her cousins stood around the punch bowl, quenching their thirst after a rowdy line dance (family tradition). Josie was catching up on all the goss she’d missed out while away: who was with whom, who’d broken up, etcetera.

“What about him? Who’s he with?” she nodded towards the lone one in the shadows.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s just with himself.”

“What do you mean?”

Susie laughed. “He’s a cryptozoologist.”

“A crypto-what? Does he mine cryptocurrency?”

“Not that interesting. He studies cryptids.”

“What are cryptids?”

“Imaginary monsters. They’re all in his mind.”

“Oh?” said Josie.

Everyone laughed.

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Confidence, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

Something Shaggy #99Word Stories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about something shaggy. It can be carpet, a hair-do, or some sort of critter. How can something shaggy steer the story? Go where the prompt leads!

Charli wrote about a new shaggy duvet she had purchased. I couldn’t imagine having a shaggy duvet. It just wouldn’t be necessary where I live, and certainly not at this time of year. I can understand how delightful it would be in colder climes though and trust it will keep Charli warm.

At first, all I could think of was the shaggy hairstyles of yesteryear. Then I thought of those shaggy dog stories, those long rambling unfunny jokes, also from the past.  I wasn’t feeling the inspiration until Charli replied to my comment on her post. She said that her new duvet was ‘lovely warmth, not too heavy and oh-so-soft!’ It seemed like the Goldilocks complex and I thought I’d apply that principle to my Shaggy Dog story. I hope you enjoy it.

Shaggy Dog

“I want a dog,” said Jason.

“You’re in the right place,” said the attendant at Rescue Kennels. “We’ve all sorts of dogs. What sort are you after?”

“A shaggy dog, please.”

The attendant showed Jason the shaggy dogs.

“They need a lot grooming,” he warned.

“Oh. Not shaggy then. Curly perhaps?”

Jason shook his own curly head at the curly dogs. They’d need grooming too.

“How about short?” said the attendant.

“They’re awfully noisy,” said Jason, as they walked the aisles.

“They are dogs,” said the attendant.

 “Right,” said Jason. “Do you have any cats? Maybe a shaggy cat?”

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Confidence, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

Confidence #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about confidence. Is a character confident or struggling? Why? Is confidence cultural, compelling, or conflicting? What is the value of confidence? Go where the prompt leads!

Having an ‘I can’ attitude, or confidence, is something I always encouraged in my children, whether I birthed them or taught them. Maybe because it was never encouraged in me and is definitely not a strong suit, I’ve always found it important to nourish. A story about confidence should have been easy to write. I’m sure I’ve written many stories about confidence before, but I just couldn’t get one to work. I finally realised that what I was trying to write was based on a true event. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t get the ending. I decided to go with an anecdote rather than fiction. I hope you enjoy it.

That’s Confidence

When Bec was little I ran play/educational sessions for children and their parents at home.  I worked hard preparing the room, dedicated for that purpose, for our sessions. Finally, everything was arranged, with various art and craft materials organised in boxes and tubs.

Bec, 2½ years old, was excited. ‘Of course,’ I said when she asked if she could make something.

I’d only moved away for a moment when her excitement drew me back: ‘Look what I made!’ Her face beamed.

She’d upended nearly everything (exaggeration, only slight) and glued one cotton ball onto a piece of paper. Wow!

Look what I made! © Norah Colvin

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt A Blade of Grass, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

A Blade of Grass #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes a blade of grass. What can you compare it to? Or in contrast? Is it a character prop or a story linchpin? Go poetic, go any genre or tone. Go where the prompt leads!

This is my response, not quite as poetic as the examples Charli shared, but that’s where it took me.

Rabbit Food

Everything was just so. She’d never felt worthy. This was a chance to prove herself. The fresh flower centrepiece belied her butterflies.

“Mum, Dad, welcome!” She smiled.  They pushed into the room.

“I don’t eat rabbit food,” said her father, as Jacinda passed him the salad of mixed leaves she’d grown on her balcony.

“I grew it myself.”

“You should know by now your father never eats greens.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Are you trying to poison me?”

“Why would I?”

“At least I could whistle with a blade of grass.”

Jacinda was cut as from a blade of grass.

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Blanket, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch soon.

Bears in the Woods #FallWritingFrenzy

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I decided to enter the Fall Writing Frenzy hosted by Kaitlyn Sanchez.

The rules stated:

1. Select one of the images below and write about it.

It can be a poem, a story, a mood piece, or whatever comes to mind. Happy, scary, beautiful, grotesque, whatever suits your fancy for any kidlit age, board book through young adult. You can write about the picture in a literal or metaphorical way, or focus on a memory or emotion it elicits. Just let the photo inspire you and have fun!

I selected this photo #9 by Saliha Sevim on Pexels.com. (There were 14 to choose from.)

When I first looked at it, I got quite a sinister vibe from it, and that’s the way I started writing. However I decided that I didn’t want to go as grim as some of the fairy tales like Hansel and Gretal or Snow White, so toned it down in the end. I’m not sure how it works as a story for children, but since time to enter has run out, so has my time to revise.

Please pop over to Kaitlyn’s blog to read all the entries.

Bears in the Woods

“Where are we going? Mama?”

“Why are we going into the woods, Mama?”

Mama just smiled and sang, “If you go down to the woods today . . .”

“Are there bears, Mama?”

“Mama. Are there bears?”

“It’s dark, Mama. Can we go home now?”

“Don’t worry, Billy. You’re with Mama. Nothing will hurt you.”

“But it’s scary. There’s bears. And monsters.”

“There’s no monsters, and the bears—”

He pulled his hand from hers and ran.

“—are just teddy—. Billy!”

Blinded by tears and monstrous fears,

he ran willy-nilly,

kicking up dry autumn leaves,

head-first into spider webs,

through prickly bushes.

Mama ran after him. “Billy! Billy!’ His comfort doll hung limply over her arm.

He didn’t hear. He kept running, running, running. He wanted out of the deep dark terrifying bear-infested woods. Finally, he collapsed in a pile of leaves, no longer able to outrun the fears.

Rustle! Rustle! Something’s nearby. Shhh!

People’s voices? Children’s voices.

Billy peered around the tree. In a clearing, children were singing to teddy bears and toys. Adults were talking. In the middle, was Mama, crying.

“Mama! Mama!” Billy called.

She scooped him up. “Oh, silly Billy. They’re only teddy bears.”

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Blanket #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes a blanket. Any interpretation works! What happens to a story when you give a character the prop of a blanket? Is the blanket the story? Is it a memory container, a source of comfort, or smothering? Go where the prompt leads!

For my story, I used the word blanket to mean cover, obscure or block, in particular, like a cloud blocking the sun. The inspiration came from a recent post called Enveloping Tranquility by blogger friend Annika Perry, in which she mentioned ‘a cloud of butterflies’. If you haven’t done so already, please pop over to Annika’s blog and read her delightful post.

I loved the idea and wondered at the thought of a cloud of butterflies obscuring, or blanketing, the sun. That’s where my imagination took me, perhaps not as far as the imaginations of the children in my story though. I hope you enjoy it.

A Cloud of Butterflies

“I’m gunna dig all the way through the world and come out in China,” said Nathan.

“I’m going to the moon,” said Mandy.

“You can’t get to the moon this way.”

“Can too!”

“The moon’s in space, silly.”

“So?”

Nathan sighed. “Let’s just dig.”

“It’s really deep,” said Mandy in a little while. “We can stand in it now.”

“Yeah!” said Nathan. He continued digging. “I hope it doesn’t rain. Tell that cloud to go away.”

Mandy shook her fist. “Go away cloud!” Then she said, “It’s not a cloud. It’s butterflies!”

“Wow!” said Nathan. “A cloud of butterflies!”

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A few years ago, 2015 to be exact, I was fascinated by a huge kaleidoscope (swarm) of blue tiger butterflies as they migrated northwards in autumn. I’ve always loved the word kaleidoscope as the collective noun for butterflies, but how appropriate cloud is too. The migrating butterflies may not have blocked the sun like a blanket, but they cast shadows on the sand as they flew over the beach. Magnificent!

If you’d like to read more about the blue tiger butterflies, follow this link and scroll down a couple of paragraphs, or follow this link. In this second article, the migrating butterflies are referred to as a cloud. So, there it was all along.

Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Insect Nation, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

Insect Nation #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about the insect nation. You can focus on a particular insect or all insects. Is your story one of acceptance and understanding? Scientific knowledge? Or apocalyptic horror? Get bugged and go where the prompt leads!

I’ve stayed at the family party with Josie, the aunts and the stranger from previous stories for a bit more fun. I hope you enjoy it.

Mealtime chit-chat

“What have we got?” Finally, the stranger, now identified as Paul, asked a question.

“The usual for one of these shindigs,” said Josie. “Aunt Agnes’s lasagne, Clara’s meatballs, Priscilla’s chicken fricassee and Joe’s sliced meats.”

“And for dessert, there’s Marie’s apple pie and Josh’s lumpy custard. Looks like Great-Aunt Rose has added berries to her strawberry jelly,” said Josie, taking a scoop.

“Blaaah!” Josie spat the jelly. “That’s not a berry!”

“It’s just a fly.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Flies don’t hurt. Extra protein.”

“Then you have it,” said Josie, shoving the plate into him and storming off.

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I used two real events for inspiration.

The first occurred at a family party when one of the dishes served up was a lasagne, which I’m sure would have been delicious if I could have ignored the flies (just one or two) baked into the top layer of béchamel sauce.

The second was a crunchy cappuccino I had once, that forever ended my love affair with cappuccino. When I removed the crunchy bit from my mouth to investigate what it was, I discovered it was a fly. The establishment was very good. They apologised and offered to make me another one. I’m not sure if I accepted their offer, but I’ve never ordered another cappuccino.

Flies and the Australian summer go hand in hand. I’m never keen on their company, and abhor them as a food source.

Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Southwest Pumpkins, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

Southwest Pumpkins #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that depicts the painting, “Southwest Pumpkins” by TOJ. Feel free to explore the nuances — do you focus on the art or seek a story? What vibes do you get? Who shows up to enter the image? What happens? Go where the prompt leads!

I thought of the painting as a scene from a doorway. I wondered what the doorway led to or from, and who was standing in it and why. My story relates to those ponderings. I hope you enjoy it.

The Next Leg

The distant mountains did a thumbs up as if measuring how far the moon had still to travel before they’d reach their destination. While this taverna was welcoming, not all were so obliging, and the desert could never be thought of as a friend. They thanked their host and gathered their belongings, including replenished canteens and knapsacks. Grasping their hands firmly, the host wished them a safe journey. He advised on signs to seek and others to avoid. They bade farewell, but then, before they left, they finger framed the scene, a memory to guide them on their way.

Thank you blog post

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt It’s Festa Time, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.