99-Word Participation: Escaping Leap

I feel like I’m in a rut both creatively and weight wise. I gained! WTF! I’m counting points and I’m exercising and my husband said it might be muscle your gaining. It’s ok. No, the FU$% it isn’t! Instead of stress eating, I’ll write and chew gum. This is in response to Carrot Ranch’s prompt: Warrior and creating a short story in 99 words. No more, no less.

I had to look up the definition and found:
Definition of warrior
: a person engaged or experienced in warfare; broadly: a person engaged in some struggle or conflict poverty warriors


The unexpected jolt to the chin was her warning. The blinding pain, the sign she sought after. She was more wounded by the fact he punched her than by the soreness setting in.
‘I’m sorry!’ He said walking toward her.
She made the decision to step back watching his eyes that went pitch black the moment she stepped away holding her face. No sword, no shield, just her wits and will, she leaped for her keys and dashed to her car. She couldn’t watch him in the rearview mirror. Later, filing a report, she learned she escaped a murderer.

Grandmother’s Gift

I took a mental break from my every day and really fell in love with Carrot Ranch’s prompt forest bathing. I grew up with my grandmother teaching me Earthing or grounding. I learned a lot from her and about spirituality and paganism and still practice some methods today. Writing is a ritual for me and it’s helping me come to terms and get through a lot.


 

‘I’m going to share something with you, little one. Come,’ my grandmother said reaching for my hand leading me into the woods behind our house.
‘Take your shoes off love,’ that’s when I realized she was already barefoot.
She sat me under an old silver oak and positioned my feet on the earth in front of me. I felt calm and sleepy when she said, ‘Do you feel that? That’s mother Earth replenishing you. If you listen deep enough, she is also taking and healing your heart and soul. Whenever you feel like giving up, come back to her.

Transitioning Wings

I haven’t done a 99-word story prompt for Carrot Ranch in what seems like months. It was a great distraction for me. I always looked at bats differently. Ever since I was a little girl my father would tell me folklore about these little creatures then showed me that throwing something in the air when they were out hunting would entice them to swoop down. He would cut up fruit and get earth rooms for me to toss.


Every night the winged beast hung from the trim outside my window. One night he flew into my room instead. I screamed, ‘DADDY!’ and topped that off ear-piercing whaling. My dad comes storming into the room and finds me crying under the blankets.
‘Honey, what’s wrong?’
‘Dad, the bat flew into my room. He’s going to give me rabies!’
‘Shh, no baby. They are actually a symbol of transition and rebirth. It doesn’t mean death or demon nights. Wait, something will change for the better in your life.’ Two weeks later I received my scholarship to the art academy.

Art of Following Dreams

‘She’ll NEVER make money as an artist! It’s a hobby, not a career that can sustain her! Plus I’m not wasting the money for her to just lose interest!’ My mother yelled at my father after I asked to join an art class. ‘You can be anything you want in this life. If you want to draw and paint then I’ll go and get what you need. You have real talent Jo. I believe in you,’ my dad gave me a hug and walked away. Years later I’m now a graphic artist, painter, writer because my father supported me.


I hope I made the deadline for Carrot Ranch’s 99-word story prompt. Backstory: This was an argument that my mother and father had. I submitted a portfolio to an art school doing a trial for younger individuals. I was chosen for them to do a home visit and seen that what I created was with a #2 pencil or Crayola watercolors. I was then accepted into the program at 13. My father was so proud, my mother, on the other hand, didn’t want to spend anything even though I was granted a scholarship. Needless to say, my father’s support helped me to where I am today.

Truth in Cake

Call it sibling rivalry but I hated having a sister. They start out taking toys, then clothes and even dare I say, boyfriends. Birthdays were always special for the youngest of us girls and I despised carrot cake just because it was her favorite. Each year without fail the sickly sweet aroma of her favorite treat wafted through the house.

Over time we became friends but I still hated that cake and I refused to eat it. Ever since my sister passed away we haven’t had carrot cake. I miss the smell and vibrant sweet taste of the carrot.


I had so much fun working in the restraints of 99 words from the Carrot Ranch prompts I thought I would try again. This weeks prompt is Carrot Cake.

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