Tag Archives: #99WordStories

Beaver Slap #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 beaver slap. It can be an actual tail slap warning on the water or an imitation. Is a beaver slap the name of something — a new type of burger, perfume, or a sci-fi gadget? Take ecological and poetic licenses. Go where the prompt leads!

We don’t have beavers in Australia and I’d neither heard, nor heard of, a beaver slap before. However, we do have:

A Very Funny Animal

It isn’t quite a beaver, though it has a beaver’s tail,

A freshwater-living mammal, much smaller than a whale.

It’s something like an otter with body dressed in fur.

Its bill and feet are duck-like but it has a poisonous spur.

It burrows into riverbanks to lay its eggs therein.

It swims around in waters while having not one fin.

If you come across it, I urge you not to scream.

It wouldn’t ever harm you. It’s just a monotreme.

Its name can be quite tricky, but you’ll learn it without fuss.

So try:

            Or –

                   Or – nith – or

                          Ornithorhynchus.

(Apologies to C.J. Dennis for this poem poorly modelled on his wonderful Triantiwontigongolope which you can read in full here.)

You might know this creature better as the platypus.

The poem, although it is 99 words, isn’t really my response to the prompt. It began more as an explanation of my response which follows.

When Europeans first arrived in Australia, they had never seen anything like the platypus, which is an egg-laying mammal, or monotreme. The first scientists who studied the platypus, thought it was a fake, made up of the body parts of several animals. I hope I’ve captured its uniqueness in both my poem and my story.

You may enjoy this video about the platypus. My story Impossible Creature follows it.

By the way, we have neither otters nor beavers in Australia.

Impossible Creature

The day was magic with the sunlight and laughter of summer holidays.

They were resting on the riverbank when a splash broke the spell. “What was that?”

“A fish? Must’ve been big.”

“It was a duck! I saw its beak before it dived.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s an otter. Ducks don’t have fur.”

“Can’t be an otter. Their tails aren’t flat. Gotta be a beaver.”

“Duh! There’s no beavers in Australia.”

The surface broke again.

“Look! Webbed feet. It is a duck. I told you.”

“But not with that spur.”

“A furry duck with spurs. Someone’s playing tricks. But who?”

Thank you blog post

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Two Can Keep a Secret, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

The Old Lady and the Beast #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 old lady and the beast.” What does age have to say about the story? Who is the beast and why? Go where the prompt leads!

This is my response. I hope you enjoy it.

The Old Woman and the Beast

Beyond the village, where trees grow thick and tall, lives an old woman in a tiny cottage. Self-sufficient with her gardens, chickens, and one milking goat, she rarely ventures far.

By day, she whistles as she works. When darkness falls, she locks the doors, bolts the windows and draws the curtains. Then the beast arrives, landing heavy-footed on the roof. Soon the monstrous grunting, growling, screeching and hissing begin. She covers her ears and rocks, humming calming songs without effect. Eventually, the beast retreats. The night grows quiet and still, and she sleeps, awakening at daybreak, another night survived.

…

This story was inspired by a cute Australian marsupial, a brushtail possum who just happened to be outside my window making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I read Charli’s prompt. I didn’t have to go far for inspiration.

While you can listen to a little of the brushtail possum’s repertoire in this video, it is only a fraction of what I heard.

Although they are totally harmless to humans, the sound can be terrifying, even when you know what it is. It sounds like the creature from the black lagoon standing at the door wanting blood. The first night I heard one, maybe almost thirty years ago, it totally unnerved me. I went from window to window trying to find out what was making the sound that seemed to envelop our house. I had no idea what it was. The next day, a little sheepishly, I phoned the museum and informed them that I’d heard noises I could not explain. The fellow said, “Did it sound like this?” and mimicked it exactly, though not quite as loudly. When he told me what it was, I was greatly relieved. Although they are not big creatures, they make a hell of a noise on a tin roof.

You can find out a little more about this very cute Australian in this video.

Thank you blog post

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.

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

A Dog in the Desert #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 dog in the desert. Why is the dog there? Who else is involved? Is there a deeper metaphor you can make of the desert? Go where the prompt leads!

We are told to write what we know, and I am not a dog person. I’ve never owned a dog though both my children and their families now do. I’m currently trying to complete a story for this year’s Story Angels Anthology that has ‘Tales from the Bark Side’ as its theme. It took me ages to get a story started and I hope I can complete it to my own, and the judges’ satisfaction. Fingers crossed.

The last time Charli included a dog in the prompt, I didn’t submit. This time I’ve followed the prompt into the desert with Australia’s own native dog. I’ve gone for a type of information-packed free verse, not really a flash fiction, but there I went. I would’ve liked more time to work on it. Perhaps I still will. But this is it for now. I hope you enjoy it.

Desert Dog

Dingo

wild dog of this vast land

of forest, scrub and plain

no stranger to the desert

with golden fur and quiet white feet

a bushy tail and pointed ears

and long sharp teeth

Australia’s largest mammal carnivore

apex predator

been here 4,000 years or more

nocturnal hunter

with howls that rip the night asunder

call the pack in

or warn intruders away

marking territories with body scents

curious but shy

beautiful but dangerous 

lean and mean

unpredictable

opportunistic hunter

hungry scavenger

do not coax it in

be ever wary

treat with caution

lest you become the dingo treat.

I think the Azaria Chamberlain story in 1980 made the world aware of the Australian dingo. It was a story that rocked the nation, not to mention its effect on the family. Although dingo attacks on humans are rare, they do occur, particularly if campers welcome them to their campsites and feed them, particularly if they are hungry and particularly if campers do not treat them with sufficient caution and respect. They may look like domestic dogs, but they are not domestic. They are wild. As recently as a week ago, a young girl was attacked by a dingo on K’gari (Fraser Island). However, many more people die by drowning and car accidents than by sharks, and even fewer by dingoes. Be cautious but not afraid.

Thank you blog post

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.

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

Impossibly Blue #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 something impossibly blue. You can go with sky or any other object. What impact does the color have on the setting or characters? Does it lead to action or create a pause? Go where the prompt leads!

Well I love blue sky days, and what better place to be on a blue sky day than at the zoo. So that’s where I went, with the grandchildren. I hope you enjoy it.

Zoo Wonders

The children studied the map while Granny sipped the compulsory cup of tea.

“Okay,” she said. Finally.

Granny squinted in the sunlight. “Wait.” She rummaged in her bag. “Drat. I’ve forgotten my sunnies. I’ll just pop back to the shop.”

The children groaned.

“To the lions,” they said, when Granny reappeared.

Two steps later, Granny cried, “Stop! Children stop! Look at the sky!”

“Why?”

“It’s soooo blue.”

“It’s always blue.”

“But this blue, it’s – impossible!”

“It’s just your glasses, Granny.” They read the label: With Impossible Sunglasses, every day’s a blue sky day.

“Now can we see the lions.”

Thank you blog post

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.

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

Shots Fired #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 shots fired. Where is this story taking place? Is there urgency or surprise? Who is there? What happens next? Go where the prompt leads!

My story is a BOTS (based on a true story). My cousin, who was about my age, was the commanding officer in the passing out parade, and my four-year-old brother was the curious child. My cousin went on to train as an army officer and achieved quite a high rank. I wish I could remember more about that. Sadly, he passed away a few years ago. I’m grateful to Charli for this prompt and an opportunity to honour him. He was a very special person and I adored him as a cousin and a friend.

Who Shot Him?

The cadets were in formation as they marched around the oval, looking every bit the soldier with guns and uniforms, and not the pimply partly-whiskered teenage boys they’d return to after graduation. Proud relatives had travelled far to view this passing out parade. Spectators and graduates sweltered under the unforgiving summer sun. Some women armed with fans and umbrellas were the envy of those less prepared. One small cousin pushed through the crowd for a better view. At that instant, a front row cadet fainted. The distressed spectator scampered back to safety. “Who shot him, Mum? Who shot him?”

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

A Place Where Children Once Played #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 place where children once played. It can be a field, a playground, or any place that attracted children to play. But now it is empty. Abandoned. Go where the prompt leads!

This is my response. I hope you enjoy it.

Locked and Abandoned

Grow up.

Stop those childish games.

Remember your manners.

Cease with the stories.

Fairies aren’t real.

Santa’s for fools with more money than sense.

She was a dutiful daughter and diligent student. She submerged herself in lessons, wiped her mind of childhood nonsense and got on with the serious business of being grownup, though she was not yet nine years old.

She went on to be dux at school and won the university medal but had no friends to celebrate with.

Sometimes, in night’s solitude, she’d hear a jangle of keys and a tiny voice crying, ‘Let me out!’

Thank you blog post

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

Golden Onions #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 golden onion. Any golden onion. One planted or harvested. An onion chopped for a meal. How can you use an onion as a prop in a character’s hand? Go where the prompt leads!

In her post, Charli used the analogy of a golden onion for writers as peeling back the layers to find the essence of who we really are as writers, what we write and who reads our work.

I write under a few different hats and I’m not sure any fits quite as well as I’d like. I’m a freelance educational writer, a blogger, an aspiring children’s author and a would-be dreamer of other things too. Too many possibilities. Not enough time.

I generally, but not always, use Charli’s prompts to write about children or to explore situations that may spark an idea for a story for children. I’m always pleased that Charli says, as she reiterated in the current post, that the ‘Carrot Ranch is a place to play, practice, and grow (or peel) your onion’. While Carrot Ranch readers may not be children, they once were (or maybe still are at heart, like me) and some are teachers and parents. I hope my stories speak the child that was or about a child that is.

Thank you for your patience in reading my stories. Here is my response to this week’s prompt ‘Golden Onions’.

No Trust

Jamie was an explorer. He had to find out for himself. ‘No’ was an answer he couldn’t trust. Did it mean, ‘You really shouldn’t” or ‘Of course, go ahead’?

Sometimes he discovered forbidden delights. Like the tiny brown squares Mum hid, saying, ‘No, Jamie. You won’t like it.’ He found he really did. A lot!

Sometimes he discovered the hard way. Like when Dad was cooking and said, ‘Don’t touch. It’s hot.” He found that hot hurts.

When Mum peeled a golden shell off a white ball, she said, ‘No. You won’t like it.’ Should he trust her?

No!

Thank you blog post

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

Literary Artist #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 what it means to be a literary artist. You can pull from your own experience, re-imagine the idea, or embody something else in a character. Be playful, go deep, and let your story flow. Go where the prompt leads!

This is my response. I hope you enjoy it.

If only …

In her mind she was a literary artist, painting exquisite word pictures and enthralling plots, her titles on everyone’s lips. When it didn’t eventuate, she blamed busyness and writer’s block. She could have, if only.

He dreamed of being a musical artist, composing melodies to make hearts sing, first choice of orchestras everywhere. When it didn’t emerge, he cited family responsibilities. He could have, if only.

They pictured themself as a visual artist, creating magnificent sculptures commissioned by international celebrities. When it didn’t evolve, they howled discrimination and poor upbringing. They could have, if only.

Might have, if only.

Thank you blog post

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.

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

A Smear of Jam #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 smear of jam. Is it across a slice of toast, a white shirt, or something unexpected? The jam could be the focus or detail that ads a twist. Who are the characters with the jam and where are they situated in space and time? Go where the prompt leads!

This is my playful response. I hope you enjoy it.

A Smear of Jam

Teddy hoped he’d get away with it. His paws were clean and his eyes unblinking as he crossed his heart and hoped – well, what could a teddy bear hope? 

Ollie decided to have some fun. He overloaded the slow-thinking Teddy with questions faster than his processing speed.

 “Admit it. You ate my jam.”

“Okay.” Teddy crumbled. “How did you know?”

Ollie smiled. “I don’t need to be Sherlock. You’re the only one here. Besides, you’ve a smear of jam on your nose.”

“Sorry, Ollie.”

“Never mind,” said Ollie. “But be honest next time – or hide all evidence.” They laughed.

Thank you blog post

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

Optimism #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 is optimistic. Feel free to explore optimism in all its forms from a positive mindset to toxic positivity. Is it a heartfelt story or a devious one? So much wiggle room for the optimistic writer. Go where the prompt leads!

In her article, Charli linked to another on Positive Psychology called Positive Mindset: How to Develop a Positive Mental Attitude.

The article includes this definition from Kendra Cherry at Very Well Mind:

“[P]ositive thinking actually means approaching life’s challenges with a positive outlook. It does not necessarily mean avoiding or ignoring the bad things; instead, it involves making the most of the potentially bad situations, trying to see the best in other people, and viewing yourself and your abilities in a positive light.”

The article goes on to list some of the traits of a positive mindset, many (most) of which we encourage in young children. These traits of a positive mindset are often the building blocks for success in life. They include:

Being optimistic and having a go rather than being defeatist and not even trying.

Accepting that things don’t always work out and being willing to learn from what eventuated.

Being strong and resilience when things don’t work out.

Being grateful for all the good things in life.

As a teacher of young children and an aspiring picture book author (I’m optimistic), I know that things don’t always work out as I’d hoped, but I am resilient and never give up, being grateful for the people and opportunities I have in my life.

As both teacher and writer, I always try to respond to Charli’s prompts with children in mind, either as subject or audience or both. This is my optimistic story. I hope you enjoy it.

Building Blocks

Clare’s tower was almost the tallest she’d ever made. One more block would do it.

Harry accidentally backed into it and sent blocks flying.

“Sorry,” said Harry.

“It’s okay. I can build it again. Wanna help?”

“Sure.”

“We need a bigger base. That one was getting wobbly anyway.”

“Let’s go as high as the roof,” said Harry.

They carefully placed the blocks and soon had to stretch on tiptoes.

Clare stood on a chair. Harry passed the blocks.

“We’re outa blocks,” said Harry. “It won’t reach the roof.”

“Let’s build on the table,” said Clare. “It’ll reach the sky!”

Thank you blog post

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