Winter Writers’ Respond

Now our Winter Writers have left but we still Keep in Touch and they do respond to our prompts

Summer 2014

Serendipity  Prompt – July 29, 2014

My list is:

end, it, pity, sent, tip, dip, rip, pit, sit, and sip.

“I decided to end it all. The ‘pity me’ comments are doomed. My friend sent me a tip on how to dip away from those folks. The next time I see one of those facebook comments, I plan to rip back at them, put them in the pit, so to speak by saying “Not my circus, Not my monkeys.” Now I will sit back, pick up my glass, and sip my Baileys.”

Nancy Nation

Response to Prompt  – Later in the Year – April 15, 2014

Later in the year, surrounded by most of our stuff necessary for a long time on the road we will return to Arizona. My personal highlight for that time shines through. It is reconnecting with the group, ‘Write On The Edge’. Surrounded by my mentors I expect to flourish and write that third novel “Rude Crude-Socially Unacceptable.” It bangs around in my head, keeps on a knocking on my cranium as if a door is expected to open, hence an escape, only to be trapped within the pages of a book.

Keep writing dear friends and I am going to add to the process, making it real and a commitment to myself.  Kirsten Wohlgemuth

 

Since we have many writers that don’t spend the entire year with us but still want to feel a part of us this page is created to post their news and
response to the weekly prompts

Summer 2013

Response to Prompt – Heads we Get Married, Tails we Break up – July 2, 2013

“Heads we get married, tails we break up”. That was what he told her twelve years ago and the coin came up heads. But that was twelve years ago. When the world stretched like a beautiful dawn before them. But now there were children to feed, a dead end job and a mortgage that strangled them. She had begrudged him the occasional fishing trip and so what if he did enjoy a couple of beers in the evening? That beautiful and patient woman he married had turned into a fault finding nag and he could do no right. He had tried to warn her that the rubber band was stretching tight. He even slapped her a couple of times. She never listened. But now she couldn’t listen. He looked back at her as she lay cooling on the floor. The cuffs hurt his wrist as the cop not gently forced him into the back seat. “I knew we shouldn’t listen to a coin”, he thought.  Bob Kelly

Response to Prompt – It Never Worked Before – July 9, 2013

After putting up with a non life threatening physical condition and ongoing surgeries that I have endured over the years for correction—well, once again here I am faced with more of the same—more uncomfortable examinations and three different doctors, a GP and two specialists. The time has come once again and maybe–just maybe-this will be the last fix. I am ready for this as I go for the last consult before the surgery. After waiting one hour, I’m finally facing the doctor, eye to eye. I am ready for whatever he has to say.

“Yes you do need this surgery, and I would be happy to help you, but, you have to help me do my job.”

‘What the hell is he on about? I don’t like that but.’ I thought.

“I won’t do it until you lose fifty pounds. Come back and see me in three months and prove to me that you are half way there. See a dietician, join a gym, do something!”

He shook my hand and smiled. I was close to tears. Every year at my physical, I am told to loose weight. It never worked before. Fifty f…ing pounds!

My companion was waiting for me in the car and before I could shut the door behind me, she eagerly announced,

“I have decided on a restaurant for lunch that has a great reputation for the biggest buffet in all of Calgary. You can tell me all about your appointment while we eat.” Kirsten Wohlgemuth

IT NEVER WORKED BEFORE
In my youth I usually tried to fix things by blunt force. A broken machine?? Use a sledge
hammer, crowbar, pipe wrench or hack saw. Can’t get a stud threaded? Well, it was
probably not needed any way. My repair projects usually ended up with many left over
parts and poorly running engines.
My dad preached patience to me. “Step back son, give it time to sort itself out in your
head before you try to solve it with your hands.”
“Aw, it never worked before any ways”, I usually replied.
With years and maturity have come humility and patience. I now heed dad’s advice. Not
only do I step back but now, when faced with a seemingly insurmountable problem, I follow
the old adage; ‘sleep on it’. It never ceases to amaze me to wake up with the clarity of a
solution to a problem that had baffled me the day before. Bob Kelly

Picture Prompt From Writer’s Digest used as our weekly Prompt

kids in snow

Our Winter Writers’ Responses

My two cousins in hand, a red ribbon in my coat pocket, we trudged through snow–scouting for the perfect Christmas tree—Grandpa followed shortly. Kirsten Wohlgemuth

Finding our car stuck in the snow, our parents took their three kids walking through the snow for help until we saw a lighted home in the forest. – true story. Nancy Nation

“With a final lurch and a sputter the car and our search for a Christmas tree came to an end.” Bob Kelly

Response to July 23, 2013 -a bottle of-

It was a bottle of vanilla. An old bottle found in the back of my mother’s cupboard still had some liquid left in it. The small dark brown bottle brought back memories of their baking escapades together. The cakes, the cookies and that exotic dish that I couldn’t remember the name; it was so delicious. My mother loved to bake and to feed us when we felt low. I never had her magic touch and stopped baking a long time ago after she had died. Somehow just holding that little bottle of vanilla in my hands felt like my mother’s magic, flowing back and forth as I turned the bottle over. Carefully I placed the small bottle into the pocket of my apron when my younger sister came in. “Haven’t you finished cleaning that yet?” she asked.

“I’m about to, Sis,” want to help me find magic?” I replied not wanting to show her the bottle. She just shook her head and left the room.

Nancy Nation

A bottle of wine, crusty artisan bread, a cheese hunk, and sharing with you, sitting on the bench, overlooking the lake, makes for great conversation. I remember when the kids were young—how much water skiing that went on back then. They grew, moved on and we were just the two us fishing and reading on that boat. We moved on and became grandparents. The kids came home and brought their own.  We enjoyed tubing or I should say that you drove the boat and I watched those small grandkids whipping across the waves. Time changes everything, as it is supposed to. But, one thing is certain. we are back to just the two of us sitting on this bench. The boat is sold. Thank God for our minds and memories.

Kirsten Wohlgemuth

I hear you! I know that you’re behind that door, tucked into the far corner where I put you seven years and five months ago. Yes, I hear you. I hear you the way I have heard you every single day since I capped you and tucked you out of sight. It was the day a neighbor, a fellow I barely knew stopped by and asked me if I was tired of drinking yet? How did he know?

I used to love you. I planned my days around when we could get together. I loved the clink of ice in the glass and the sound of the scotch being poured over it. I always hated the taste of the first sip but each subsequent sip seemed to taste better until… until the taste just didn’t matter any more.

You destroyed my life, made me choose you over love, work, fishing and writing. You led me to depths I never thought I would get to. But now, after seven years and five months I know that a devil lives in you. You are nothing but a bottle of trouble!!

Bob Kelly

July 30, 2013 Prompt “the phone is ringing

We were waiting – all of us were waiting in the room provided by the hospital. Uncle Michael was in surgery to repair his shoulder he tore while at work. Working on the farm is hard, so his accident was not surprised but unexpected. Marjorie leaned over to me, “How long has it been?” she whispered. I told her I didn’t know but gave her the current time. The anesthesiologist was suppose to call to give us an update. Aside the five of us in the waiting room, were about ten others anticipating a call about their loved one’s condition. The phone is ringing, the lady at the front desk had just stepped out, so seeing no one rise, I walked over to answer it. “It’s good news!” I shouted to my family. “He’s out of surgery and in ICU!”

Nancy Nation

“Bob”, Mary called to me. “The phone is ringing”. Did she think I was deaf? I had heard the phone. It was 7:30 in the evening, the time when the most pesky of solicitors called. “Bob, please answer the phone”. This time it wasn’t really a question. It was the tone of voice she used when she commanded me. Could I pretend to ignore her? No, that would only increase the tension between us.

Resentfully I left my chair and walked to pick up the phone. Certain that it would be a solicitor I was already planning my revenge. Would it be a piercing whistle or the silent treatment where I asked them to hold for a moment while I answered the door. Of course that minute would stretch into at least the next commercial break.

I picked up the phone. “Hello”, I said. “Dad”, came the reply. It was our son, Sean. “Dad”, he continued. “You and Mom are new grandparents.

Bob Kelly

August 6, 2013 Prompt “write about the sound, the color and smell of loneliness

The evening sun warmed her back, and yet Amalia felt a cold chill engulfing her. She didn’t have the will or the motivation to move from her slumped position on the steps of the church. Wrapped in the billows of her white wedding dress, she looked like a pile of discarded papers. Hours ago all the guest who came for the wedding, left when it became obvious that Federico was not coming to exchange vows. In the distance the sound of laughter drifted from the pub around the corner. The sun was sinking into a brilliant orange globe on the western horizon. And the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine fill the air. Amalia knew that eventually she would enjoy the sound of laughter, revel at the glowing colors of the sunrise or sunset and rapture in the scents of the blossoms. But for now all she could experience was the sound, the color and the smell of loneliness.

Linda Scott

The color is  gloomy grey all around me. I smell an unwashed musty body and stale swampy breath. The room is filled with hollow, echoing, pulsing beats . Such is the color, smell, and sound of my loneliness.

Kirsten Wohlgemuth

September 10, 2013 Prompt “I Saw It in the Sky”

Pulling weeds around my tomatoes was a chore, when suddenly a loud blast came from above. I saw it in the sky, a huge hot air balloon just a hundred feet above me. Red and blue were the colors of this beautiful contraption. Slowly it moved passed my house rising high into the sky. Over my neighbor’s it rose as it drifted on by. How I would have loved to ride through the cool morning air, without a weed to care.

Nancy Nation

ps-I didn’t know poetry would come out.

Response to Sept. 24, 2013 Prompt – What Would Happen If…

What would happen if the library in Alexandria didn’t get burned, what would happen if politicians did not get paid, what would have happened if the native Indians had gun powder first, and what would happen if we didn’t have chocolate.

Nancy Nation

What would happen if we couldn’t snowbird any more. Snowbird you ask? Doesn’t everyone know that those of us humans, who seek the sun in the winter, fly the coop along with other migratory birds. If we got our wings clipped by poor health, financial reasons, or worst of all criminal behavior, and we had to stay North, why we would have to find a winter way of life. The saddest effect would be the loss of interacting with all our good friends that we have made and spend time with for six months. Age however will get us someday and we will have to stay home or return there in a box.

Kirsten Wohlgemuth

October 23, 2013 Prompt – One day, while reading your favorite book on the beach, you notice a boat slowly drifting to shore. It eventually lands near your spot. A person, draped in pirate clothes, yells to you from the boat, “I have a treasure map and I need help. Are you in?” (prompt from WD Week In Review for 2/23/2013)

“I HAVE A TREASURE MAP. ARE YOU IN”

The warm sun bathed me while softly lapping waves on the sandy Cape Cod beach lulled me. I had just finished the second chapter of “FOOLS GOLD The Search For The Lost Dutchman Mine”

Lunch, enjoyed on the beach, had been a traditional Italian Grinder, awash with oil and vinegar and all squeezed between a crusty Roll. A glass of Chianti had completed the repast. I lay back for a moment, took a deep sigh of contentment and closed my eyes against the glare of the sun.

I heard a yell. “ I have a treasure map. Are you in? “

A small boat, really little more than a row boat had drifted to shore. A figure, dressed in ragged and torn pirates cloths called to me again.

“Are you in?”

I surveyed the deserted beach for only a moment before joining the strangely dressed lithesome blond lady in her rickety boat.

Bob Kelly

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