My Weekly Writing Challenge

This week, your themes for a story or poem are:

  • Ghost
  • Horror
  • Crime
  • Romance

There should be something for everyone there! There’s no limit on the length of story or poem.

Last week’s challenge was to write a story or poem on one of the following themes:

  • The storm
  • Blood
  • Jealousy
  • Nighttime
  • Reflections
  • Time travel
  • Love
  • Nature

Here are the fantatsic and highly entertaining results:

Adhin Shamina sent in a lovely lot of pieces:

REFLECTIONS:

WHICH STEPS TO FOLLOW:

I see many directions ahead.
Some in straight lines,
others in twisted ones.
I can see imprints of steps
But they fade out at some distance.
So how to judge
which one will lead
to where I want to be.
Are straight lines better than twisted ones?
Do straight lines mean determination?
Do twisted lines mean escapism?
Or do straight lines mean compulsion?
And do twisted lines mean emancipation?
What if I follow the straight lines and they become twisted ahead?
Or what if I follow the twisted ones and they straighten ahead?
Whom will I blame for any unexpected change?
Or should I blame no soul
Coz the choice was open.
Or should I choose none?
Perhaps I should better
create a new line with a new pattern
coz I can see there is always enough space
for a new design.

NIGHT TIME:

DO STARS STARE:

The deep dark background
bearing the tiny shinning spots
spreading till the limit of vision
twinkling with oscillating brightness
at times some more radiant
at times the others
as if seeking the attention
of the contemplating eyes
on a night of fantasy
when standing by the window.
In cluster here
or lying lonely there
whichever way they present
yet equally eager to get noticed
then glimmering even more
whenever upon them eyes are laid.
Decking up an enlivening the black veil
and wanting to be a delight
for their embellishing nature
offering to the admiring eyes
the marvelous vista
of a dark but splendid canopy.
It seems as if they do
in anticipation of distinguished observance
but at us,
do the stars stare?

JEALOUSY:

REGRET REMAINS:

The circles evolving in the water stopped. Janice had a clearer image of herself. But the expressions she was offered were not what she waiting for. She raised her gaze then observed the image again. It did not change.

“Why are you making such a face? You got what you wanted?”

But there could be no reply. She was talking to herself after all. Janice was confused between guilt, jealously or pity for herself.

Janice and her family had been to the graduation ceremony of her younger sister. It was a matter of pride indeed . She could see the glowing faces of her parents and grandparents when her sister was being honored. She was happy too. Yet deep within she was uncomfortable.

“You are jealous. That’s it!” The allegation was burden-like.

“No. I can’t be jealous of my own sister.”

“Really ? Then why are you here and not sharing the happy moments of your own ones.”

“It’s just…”

“See! You have no words.”

Janice knew she was jealous for not being the one to get the praises, for not being the pride of her parents.

Janice was in her mid secondary education when she decided to stop her further studies. Her teens had been very difficult for her family to handle. Most of the time she would keep away from her parents and sister. Any interference on their behalf would make her wild. They felt compelled to the extent of agreeing for nearly all she demanded. Her lavish expenses were unbearable.

Once she asked for such a raise in her pocket money justifying that she felt inferior to her friends who wore much more expensive outfits and designer accessories. Her father, infuriated, decided to reduce her pocket money to half the amount. However her immature reasoning was far from the level of understanding, leading to her drastic decision of taking up a job. She thought being self dependent would give her the lifestyle she wanted.

Her coquettish attitudes being a plus, Janice was appointed as assistant in the salon she frequented. Her parents faced much disappointment and obligation to yield to her stupidity fearing she would take drastic steps.

Gradually as years elapsed, her younger sister grew up scoring good results at school. She came out first in her final exams and was awarded a grant for her tertiary education. And after five years she got her graduation certificate.

“You could have been somebody else rather than a hairdresser.” She carried the guilt and acknowledged she deserved the sarcastic taunts of her own self.

“My immaturity has cost so many years of my life to be wasted. They could have been better, if only…”

LOVE:

THE MAGIC OF LOVE:

The edge was sharp. She had to walk upon it. She knew the pain would be hard to bear. But it had to be that way. Life was to give her only the best in everything and for Lisa, nothing was nor should ever be the other way. That was it.

It was nearly dusk. The fading brightness of the sky reflected her state of mind. The stillness in the air made her realize she had brought the same in her father’s life since the death of her mother. It was the only thing she had no power to fuss over. And then the result of years of immature behavior had cost the same in solitude to her father.

Peeping through the window of her room, Lisa saw her father coming. She saw him, then observed and noticed what she had not all these years. He was alone. There had never been any companion to sit beside him whenever he was out. She understood how her selfish ego had taken away even the very last possibility of happiness in her father’s life. She knew her happiness was everything for him, the reason for which he stepped back whenever he was given a hand. But it was enough.

Lisa opened the door on the very first bell.

‘Dad, I need to tell you something.’

But she felt the same impulsive behavior empowering her again and she had to fight it. She needed time, for herself and for them.

‘Let me in first, dear. Ok. Tell me.’

‘Not here. Let’s go somewhere for dinner.’

‘Hm! That’s going to be really serious I sense.’ He gave her a wink, then smiled. ‘ Let’s go, sweetheart. Anything for you, anytime.’

So much love deepened her guilt. She smiled back then gulped hard. She knew what would remain afterwards. Meanwhile she had to prepare her confession with both of them before her. Her trembling fingers dialed the number. And she had no time to gather her words when Diana answered on the second beep.

‘Hello!’

Diana had not bothered to see the caller ID but that voice seemed familiar despite the fact they’d met only a few times without much interaction.

‘Lisa?’ Diana had no guess as to why she’d called her. It was nearly six months since she’d met them last. Diana still remembered the confused feelings she had for Lisa’s father. His gallant behavior showed his interest and Diana kept waiting for an official proposal. But everything winded up without conclusion. She was left wondering what it was, or was not. Lisa finally persuaded Diana to meet in a restaurant nearby without telling her the reason behind it.

Sitting at a table away from the crowd, Diana remembered it was there she first met Lisa’s father. Then her flashback broke when she spotted the two of them.

‘That lady over there, isn’t she Diana? I didn’t think she’d be here.’ Lisa’s father was uncomfortable.

‘Let’s go, Dad.’ Lisa grabbed his hands and led him to the table where Diana was sitting.

They exchanged glances. Lisa noticed their faces glowing. But they were trying to mask their expression thinking their feelings were one-sided.

‘Good evening, Diana. How are you?’ He handed her a hand to break the tense atmosphere. ‘Are you back?’

Diana frowned at his surprise. ‘Sorry? I am back? I don’t understand. Where did I go?’

‘You…’

Lisa did not let his father complete his words. ‘Ok, Dad. I’ll tell. That letter, I wrote it. I mean I asked a friend of mine, because you know my handwriting.’

‘What?’ He was confused.

‘What letter?’ Diana was lost too.
‘I knew you loved each other. But I was unable to share my father’s love with anybody else. I was his focus since mama died. And I feared to share this. I know I’ve been stupid. But now I realize what it means to be loved. If only you would forgive me, Dad. I am ashamed for what I did. I just want to be happy and for now enjoy this moment with one another. Have a nice time. I’ll wait for you at home. Then whatever you want to tell me, I’ll listen.’ And she went away.

When Lisa’s father recounted to Diana what had happened, she felt sad for her. Diana’s love for Lisa’s father and the wish for a family were much more important than the childish act of Lisa. And they were both proud that Lisa had the courage to tell the truth and more than that, she really cared for them.

When the door bell rang again, Lisa was not anticipating the same smile she got earlier. She opened the door with head bowed.

‘Lisa.’ Diana was facing her. ‘ I just want to tell you that I never was nor ever will come between the love of a father and a daughter. I just want to ask you for a little of all the love you both have. Can you give me that, dear?’

Lisa was crying. Diana too.

‘Hey! Hello! The dinner will get cold! And I won’t forgive both of you for that. Ok!’
And then life echoed, with laughter and happiness.

Keith Channing had this to say:

‘Take a look at http://channing.info/wp/2015/07/23/its-about-time-two/
You may find something to your (dis)liking…’

I’m sure your intrigued and want to take a look…go on, you know you want to!

Jason Moody has been missing for a while. Great to see him back:

I can see much clearer now, as my misted mind has cleared.
When finally the circus left, and all I had were tears.

My dear old Mum, God rest her soul, would often say to me.
Seek not my dear what you don’t have,
Be thankful, let it be.

When Julie Brown was new at work, I remember that first day.
When all about did blush and coo
Whereas I had nowt to say.

A day, a week, a month went by,
She was the office darling.
And now she’s set her sites on him,
Not the gorgeous Stuart Starling.

I was waiting until Christmas,
It was then I’d make my move
What’s she got that I ain’t got?
Like I had owt to prove.

It started with an evil look,
But soon would escalate
Before I knew, what I had done
I’m afraid it was too late.

Jealousy is a terrible thing
And revenge best not deployed,
I tell you of this sorry take
In my flat, alone, unemployed.

Riley Reed sent in a piece from a work in progress. Please visit her site for a great read:

https://rileyreedauthor.wordpress.com/2015/07/25/the-storm/

Jane Basil has been busy but managed to get one in. She’s very talented so do take a look:

https://janebasilblog.wordpress.com/2015/07/30/reflections/

***

Barbara-Holland-Quotes-Buffalo

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

21 Responses to My Weekly Writing Challenge

  1. ooh, this is so tempting, as especially as there’s no word limit! How long do I have to post – what’s the deadline?

  2. Even more tentative this week. I’ve written an extra episode of Albert and Jarvis, which will appear tomorrow at http://channing.info/wp/2015/08/01/albert-and-jarvis-part-19/

  3. somewords4u says:

    Hello Mrs Esther, so happy to be on your blog again. Here is my proposal on ROMANCE. It might seem a bit difference but I feel romance remains even in the memories of the beloved.

    FADED STEPS

    The horizon was continuous extending to either extremities till the limit of her vision. I t was
    just like every day for Rachel, with the stifled sound of the sand beneath her feet, walking
    with her hands on her forehead to escape the blinding rays of the sun, she would wait for him
    because he told her he would be back.

    Marc was the hero of the sea, rough-looking , but a child at heart. He learnt the art of fishing
    from his father who was the most daring of his time. Waves were as if their breaths, coming
    and going along. Marc and Rachel fell in love but against her family. She belonged to a
    much more sophisticated background. For that, her parents would have never accepted a
    fisherman as part of their family. But Rachel had preferred his love to all the luxuries of the
    world she had seen. She was happy to care for her new home. They have been together for
    not a long time but they were the Romeo and Juliet of the village. The life they shared was
    an example for the other couples. But life had not been kind only. Together, they have
    braved difficulties too, and with same determination.

    The memories of Marc were not like Rachel’s footprints on the sand. No wave has been able
    to wash them . It has been a year and Rachel has been doing her duty diligently. Every
    morning began with the zeal of his arrival and darkness would leave the hope for tomorrow.
    Time has halted for Rachel. She was still in the time when Marc was going for his catch. He
    had much expectation.
    “Looks like it’s going to be a great catch today. You know Harry, my friend. He promised to
    take me to the city for business. It’s like lottery going there. ” His hand running through her
    hair he looked at Rachel. His emotions nearly flowed through his eyes,” I wish to do so
    many things for you.”
    “Don’t ever say that dear. Nothing is more important for me than you. You’ve given the
    world’s most priceless thing, love and a peaceful life like I have always wished for after marriage. And I am happy dear.”

    Rachel and Marc had created their own world and story. But unfortunately their story was
    not a fairy tale with happy ending. For the past eleven months, Harry’s wife Elizabeth, has
    been helping Rachel with her basic needs. In return Rachel offered her help in taking care of
    Elizabeth two children Life grew hard for Elizabeth with sewing as her only mean of
    income. But she has accepted her fate unlike Rachel. Her mental state was deteriorating day
    after day.

    Standing on the shore her gaze fixed on the stretch before. Then in just a few minutes the sea
    looked unfamiliar. The weather went grey. The atmosphere grew sinister. But her gaze did
    not move. She saw something at the far end , something struggling to reach the shore.

    “Marc? Marc!….. He has come. Somebody help.” She looked around. There was not a
    single soul. She believed Marc was in trouble at in other end. She was in pain and ran to her
    love. The waves took height, engulfing her. Yet she fought ignoring it being only her
    illusion. And in just a few moments, she was gone. Her never- ending wait ended.

    The next morning, the whole village was searching for her. Elizabeth told them she did not
    turn home that night. But they could only found Rachel’s slippers on the sand and then the curtain fell.

  4. somewords4u says:

    CRIME

    STARVATION

    Like forever starving
    there are souls hanging around,
    at every nook, at every corner,
    some since the very beginning
    and others till the end of time.
    Lust, envy and greed
    which, among others,take over their
    never-to-be-satisfied desires and need.
    At times their pace seem not enough,
    at times their space seem not enough,
    then reaching becomes tough
    and from the above comes the cycle
    of push and pull
    constantly attempting
    to always keep until full.
    Then comes their spreading and growing
    then comes their snatching and showing
    despite to all it is knowing
    that here all is owing.
    But still like starving souls
    they hang around
    some since the very beginning
    and some till the end of time.

  5. Riley Reed says:

    Hi Esther, here is my contribution. A poem dedicated to my mom. Hope you enjoy it.

    https://rileyreedauthor.wordpress.com/2015/08/02/ghost-of-her/

  6. TanGental says:

    I wrote this sonnet about my wife and I and our dancing lessons but also our on going love affair…

    The hand that guides

    Your consoling hand sits light on my sleeve,
    A Macavity tap to release me on four;
    We set sail, in step, gliding with ease
    Past blind spots and money pots strewn on the floor.
    I fumble to catch that elusive toe-tap
    Which, if I could, would allow me my head.
    You remind me, by way of a quick finger snap,
    Of the dangers where taking that path might lead.
    I continually try to do it my way,
    To give into weakness of flesh and of soul
    But you know how to guide; I cannot stray
    And we remain linked; two parts of one whole.
    May it always be thus as we gib and we tack;
    You looking forward, my hand at your back.

  7. Pingback: The Flip Side – In response to Esther Newton’s Writing Challenge | Melissa Barker-Simpson

  8. I seem to have taken the opposite direction to everyone else on this. I’m afraid I’ve gone for dark and gruesome.
    https://janebasilblog.wordpress.com/2015/08/01/dead-man-walking/

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s