Thursday, November 26, 2015

A Story in 101 Words

I'm having trouble staying on a schedule since I retired. But isn't that what retirement is about -- no alarm clock, no job, no worries! 

Yeah, right. Don't buy into that BS. Retirement is a whole lot of work, but you have to make your own schedule. Obviously, I'm terrible at that as I seem to jump from one task to another, never finishing anything. My blog has suffered tremendously. I have several posts that are half way to publication, but I just don't have the desire to complete them. 

This week, I decided to try a different approach and write about a topic on Mama's Losing It. This site has weekly writing prompts that can be linked to her site and shared with her readers.

The topic I found intriguing (Write a Story in 101 Words) involved creative writing, something I have never done. I thought I'd give it a shot. Here are two that I wrote:

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#1
     
     She searched everywhere for that one picture of her baby. 

     “No one else has a copy of that shot. It can’t be gone,” she said while frantically digging through boxes of old photos, through albums and through pages of favorite books. That one picture captured everything – the pain of birth, the joy of childhood, the future.  She could still see all the dreams she had for Jessie, her child. Jessie -- beautiful, healthy, strong, generous, and loving. What a glorious future belonged to sweet Jessie!


     “Finally,” she sighed, as she pulled the grainy ultrasound picture from the pages of her Bible.




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#2

     “We’ll start another round of chemo Thursday, followed by a scan in three months to see if it’s working,” said Dr. Jonas.

     Three months. 

     Three short months to tell if the poisons they are putting into my body are killing what they are designed to kill. Three months of nausea, sweats, hair loss, skin rash. Three months to make sure my family knows my feelings, to make sure they will do everything I want afterwards. Three months before the “No More” or “Do More” treatment decision.

     My life -- now measured in three month increments.

     Screw it. I’m buying that motorcycle.