Dreaming Wheel

I’m so behind on my writing and luckily I’m slow here at work for the moment. I wanted to take the time to try my hand at today’s photo prompt.


‘This is the dumbest decision ever!’ Lara scoffed buying a ticket for the Ferris wheel.
‘You said you’d be willing to try. You’ve been on some horrible dates anyway, so what’s to lose?’ Liz chided snagging one herself. The tickets read, ‘Sit and enjoy the ride. The person across from your carriage is your true love.
The girls jumped in their carriages and around they went. Lara’s turn came to meet her date when she saw Liz walking off with HER ex. Deflated, she immediately regretted everything until she saw him.
‘Hello, I’m Tucker.’
‘I dreamt of you!’
‘I know.’

© Jo Creative PTSD Gal
Word Count: 100

Trained Love

I needed a break, however brief, from the toxicity of work and decided to try my hand at this week’s twittering tale. This is not my usual fantasy, horror-ish theme. How about something that a young woman might have felt from a historical period? Kind of new to me but here it is.


Clara sat nervously next to strangers as her stomach turned. The echos of passing tracks below hinted her new life was soon docking.
‘Will he be good to me? Will there be love? It’s survival.’ Clara pondered.
The picture-bride was pulled closer to the station where Eli was waiting.

© Jo- Creative PTSD Gal
Character Count: 280
Word Count: 49

Freshly Baked Secrets

I had the hardest time with this photo and I ended up in the weirdest place for the story but I ran with it.


Ana’s home has a bakery, ‘Fresh Baked Secrets’, in front where she sold secret recipes baked into sugary confections. On the table next to her register sat a vase full of gold trimmed roses. Customers had nothing but compliments about the arrangement when purchasing cookies.

We all know the darkest of secrets are behind closed doors and the basement was always locked. ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ warned the sign. This was Ana’s space where she honed skills in the darkest magic imaginable. Her cookie recipe would enchant her next victim never to be seen again. Each rose represented the innocent soul captured.

Word Count: 100
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

Twittering Tale: Lou’s On 66

Better late than never. Here is my twittering tale for this week which was a great exercise for working on dialogue (which I need more practice). I wanted to veer away from my usual dark style for these shorts and tried to do something humorous.


‘Look, Bruce, if we go left here we’ll get right back on to Route 66.’
‘I see that Leo but if we want to eat at Lou’s we need to go straight.’
The two men argued about the Route 66 trip while their wives snickered.
‘Should we tell them Lou’s is around the corner?’
‘Yeah, and on 66?’


Character Count: 280
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

Cursed Melody

Y’all, I’ve been working on this since Fandango first posted the photo prompt for the weekly flash fiction. I suck at writing but no one gets good at something unless they are practice. This screamed fairytale and I’ve been working on this since Monday. I stopped when I was over 1000 words and went back to do some major chopping. I like the questions that I’ve left unanswered. Now to figure out a twittering tale and get ready for tomorrows short story. Happy Thursday Y’all!


Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young woman. It wasn’t her young skin, long silky hair or feminine physique that had men fighting for her affection. It was her light, quick flautist abilities that held their affections. Her small nimble fingers gently kissing the keys of her flute giving it a song that went straight to the heavens.

Brenna’s only secret was a curse given to her as she grew in the womb robbing her of her voice. No one knew the awful truth because her songs entranced all who visited. The deer would even come and pay their condolences of her fate. The curse that dwelt within her has the darkest of melody and it leaks out in deep notes throughout her music. The only way for this curse to be lifted is for someone to hear those hidden notes and play them in Brenna’s presence as an accompaniment to her song.

Day after day, Brenna sang through her flute. During the times of a silent Brenna and flute, she was surrounded by people waiting for her tunes. One spring morning she noticed a young woman following one of her deer back into the woods but couldn’t get her attention and shrugged it off. Over the next few weeks, the same young woman listened to Brenna, say hello, and then follow the same dark-colored deer into the thicket. It was a dark stormy day and Brenna felt more sorrow than she had in a long time. The rain was loud enough so only she could hear the melody. It seemed like every hidden dark note danced in the drops that fell on her Brenna’s dress.

Brenna’s head bowed she played with such feeling the deer started to gather around her. Among her antlered friends, the young woman sat patiently waited with a flute in her hands. Brenna started another stanza when the girl began to play all the hidden dark notes from Brenna’s curse. The sky opened to let sunlight shine on the two girls playing a beautiful accompaniment of sorrow and cheer. The dark deer rested in the young girl’s lap and when they were done silence fell around them. Brenna asked, ‘What’s your name?’ but the young girl didn’t answer only patted her throat and handed her a piece of paper:

‘My dear sister,

It is my turn to bear the burden of the curse our father brought upon us girls. Take my voice and sing to my tune. Help find a way to break this spell.’

Stunned, Brenna looked up, ‘Sisters?’

Word Count: 427
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

Friday Fictioneers: Painful Panes

I HAD to write this quick short story…it’s Friday after all. I promise I’m going to lay down after this. I know there is more back story here but I haven’t quite figured it out. I think this is a great starting point though. Don’t you?


‘I’ve only seen these panes from the inside. What am I supposed to do now?’ Tess asked the nurse.
‘Well, you’re going to live and prove to others that you are just as normal and sane as everyone else,’ Tess’ nurse reminded her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Tess picked up her suitcase turning to give the mental asylum one last look. All she could remember was the pain she felt looking to the outside world through those very same panes of glass. No one was there to pick her up but everything she’d done was in self-defense.

100 Word Count
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

Twittering Tales: XOXO

It was one of the most trying days that I have had in a long while yesterday when I had started writing this. I’m surprised it didn’t turn out darker or more moodier. I’m a little late but luckily the character counter that I used remembered (still had it in the counting box) so I didn’t have to start over. I’m glad I finished it.


This will be the first Valentines day without her husband. XOXO was always the first candy heart he’d give Ruth. She bought her own box two days prior but couldn’t open it.
Waking up on the 14th Ruth decided to eat her candy. On top of the unopened box, a candy heart sat, XOXO.

Twittering Tales: June’s Integrity

I am absolutely beginning to LOVE these Twittering Tales hosted by Kat. I needed something to get my mind off my job interview today (that I know I won’t get but still what they hey). This week was a little more challenging because we finish the story after 23 characters were provided leaving us to work within 257 characters (including spaces and punctuation). The wheels were turning and like a wall, WHAM! I was hit with an idea. Tons of editing later, I even surprised myself. Happy Tuesday Y’all!


It starts with one word, integrity. It’s the truth between the moment of awareness and a final decision.
June saw hate begin to rumble towards the crone once trusted with healing, ‘MURDERER!’ The child had died from fever, nothing more. June stood shielding the crone, ‘COWARDS!’

279 Characters
© Jo-Creative PTSD Gal

Friday Fictioneers-The Peaceful Appetite

I had nothing. No ideas. Not a clue what to write about for my Friday story. Then I came across this picture prompt for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. I thought how perfect! My short stories have been rather long and this helped with a word count maximum. I edited this quite a few times so that was also helpful. Next…What in the world am I going to take a picture of today?


The Peaceful Appetite

Photo credit: Renee Heath

‘I QUIT!’ Tabitha said grabbing her bag. There were no tears, no explanation, and no looking back. Thinking about that last day in a ruthless society, she grinned staring at her backyard for the week. She knew leaving was the right decision.
‘Mommy, are we going to tell stories tonight?’ Tabitha’s daughter asked through a toothless grin.
‘Yes, love.’ Her daughter was just an infant when she went off the grid. Now, four years old. Lucille can read, write, paint, and is an avid storyteller.
‘What’s the story for tonight?’ Tabitha asked Lucille.
‘Erm…The Peaceful Appetite.’
Tabitha started, ‘I QUIT!’

 

 

Innocent Cutouts

I’m a day late but thought I would try my hand at this. This is a nice little exercise hosted by Kat helps get the wheels turning. There are a lot of sweet stories about cookies (no pun intended) and I wanted a twist. I’ve been really working at adding twists.


The investigators couldn’t find the culprit for the devastating loss of life. The cutout shapes of flour and sugar seemed harmless rolled out on the counter. The kitchen once full of warmth and life was now a cold and quiet scene.
‘Do you suppose she meant to do so much damage?’

Photo by Oleg Magni at Pexels.com
279 Characters
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

I want to really start committing to submitting my short stories for publishing either online magazine or print. Any advice on where to start? I have searched online and sites are asking for payment just for the list. Advice, sites, places for submission would be GREATLY appreciated.

Future’s Past

I know I know…I’m SUPER behind. I had such bad writer’s block today and then this happened. I tried keeping it short and may revisit for edits but here is my Friday story. Now for my 365 Day project.


Another girls night out and it was Polly’s turn to choose the activity. She was tired of the club scene and getting hit on by random guys. She didn’t care for going to the movie and show events because either the food was bad or the show. Polly didn’t have an artistic bone in her body so she loathed the drink and paint events that her friends would drag her too. Polly realized that most of the activities they do on lady’s night out involved alcohol. She and her friends were all moms and craved an adventure but she felt that they settled for mainstream hum drum ‘mom’ activities. Not tonight.

Polly was the black sheep of the friend group but she’s been that since they were all in high school. She was the quiet nerd copywriting for the school newspaper and her friends were cheerleaders or popular. She was even the last one to have a child. Her fiance got cold feet and left her before they could even stand at the altar. Her friends were supportive but she knew they judged her and her parenting which is why she only really hung out with them on their lady’s night. She wasn’t reclusive but she didn’t seek out socializing. Now that her daughter was a teen it was easier for her to see her friends a few times a month without worrying about a babysitter.

Her night to choose and tonight it wasn’t going to be her go-to usual midnight matinee at the local theater. She planned out a psychic reading for all of her friends and a ‘blackout dining’ experience. She has always wanted to do both of her choices but never spoke up but tonight something was different. She felt braver. The other 5 women showed up ready to go and she knew that as long as there was booze involved somewhere they would be game for whatever she suggested. The girls walked in after a brief tap on the door and a ‘yoohoo’ yodled inside. Polly greeted them and quickly told them, ‘Ladies, I have a unique night planned for us. First, we will be getting a psychic reading and I’ve reserved 2 hours for all of us to be read then we will be having a blackout dining experience.’ The other’s quietly stared at her and then the chatter of acceptance and hopeful what-ifs filled the space.

The girls arrived at Madame Quinn’s parlor promptly on time even though the carpool of women got lost twice. One by one the women went behind the black velvet curtain to have a future told to them while the others peruse Madame Quinn’s shelves of knick-knacks and herbs gossiping about whether or not Quinn was a fake and the fortunes were true. Polly was the last to disappear behind the curtain to an unknown future. ‘Sit down dear.’ Quinn motioned for Polly to sit across from her. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ Polly stammered. ‘Just relax and place your hands palm up on the scarf.’ Polly slowly put her hands on the scarf as instructed and Quinn gently cradled her hands around Polly’s. ‘You’re not like your friends. You appreciate the soul of things and live in moments. You shouldn’t worry about your daughter so much. Her future is everything a mom can ask for her daughter.’ Polly relaxed. ‘You have many pasts and this conflicts with your future. Your several futures.’ Quinn said slowly and squinted her eyes at her hands then met Polly’s eyes. ‘What does that mean?’ Polly asked. Quinn continued,’ You have a love from your past that you keep missing in each life. You continue to miss him in the future.’ Polly slid her hands out of Quinn’s and slumped back crossing her arms, ‘I had a man that I loved and he left. The love of my life is my daughter.’ ‘Child, the man that left is not the same from your past. He doesn’t know he’s looking for you. But you need to see. You need to be aware of your body. It will tell you if you listen. If and when you find each other futures change from lifetime to lifetime.’ Quinn said gripping Polly’s wrist, ‘Just listen.’ Polly stood and thanked Madame Quinn, paid for the services and tipped. All the girls loaded up in the van and headed to dinner. Polly could see Quinn standing outside with a hand cupped to her ear.

The women arrived at the restaurant where they were blindfolded and given instructions that they will be aided by the staff that has night vision goggles and guide your hands to plates and glasses. The women stumbled as they were lead to their table and no matter how hard Polly tried her there wasn’t any light for her eyes to make adjustments too. Everyone except Polly ordered a spirited drink whereas she opted for water. The meal was already preplanned so there were no menus just the drink order that needed to be placed. The women talked about Madame Quinn and what their futures held for them and when Polly was asked she replied, ‘I need to listen to my body.’ Giggles then the conversation was interrupted by the waiter, ‘I will be coming around on your left and placing a plate in front of you. Once the plates are placed I will guide your hands to the plate and the silverware is on your right.’ Polly’s hearing was overcompensating for the loss of sight. She could hear the plates being set on the table and her’s was last. She could hear hands being guided by the waiter with the sound of fabric scrapping against the table cloth.

Polly could feel the waiter on her left and her body temperature dropped. Her hair raised on her arms and she could feel a magnetic pull on her chin and look up in the darkness and she swore she saw the outline of a man. Polly whispered, ‘Thank you,’ as he guided her hand to her plate. The touch sent an electric pulse to her heart and instead of skipping a beat she felt a pang of sorrow. She could hear him walk away and wondered if he felt what she did. The women ate and chatted but now Polly was distracted and offered the occasional, ‘yup’ and ‘really’ in the conversation when warranted. The meal ended and the waiter guided the women to the hostess area where Polly could feel the pang in her heart as the waiter bid them goodnight. She was quiet on the way home and snapped out of her quiet mood when the vehicle pulled up in front of her house. They said their goodbyes and squealed about how they haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Polly quietly entered her house, kissed her daughter’s sleeping forehead, and went to bed.

Polly tossed and turned all night with dreams of a faceless man and woke up late. She decided to go to the coffee shop by her house. Waiting in line she could feel the pull and pang. Her mouth went dry and she could hear a familiar shuffle even over the noise of the coffee shop. She turned and looked directly in the eyes of a man behind her. She noticed his breath quickened and he swallowed hard. ‘Do I know you?’ Polly asked. ‘You looked at me the same way last night. I was…’ Polly interrupted, ‘Our waiter.’ He nodded, ‘I’m Zack.’ ‘Im Polly.’ Coffee orders were placed and they sat talking like they had known each other for years. Morning turned into afternoon and they were talking into the evening, ‘I need to get home,’ Polly said sadly. Zack gave her his number and they made plans to make plans. Polly watched Zack walk away and it felt like she was losing something important.

For weeks the pair talked and grew closer together. A couple of years passed when Zack asked Polly to be his wife. Her friends were bridesmaids and her daughter the matron of honor. She could feel something crushing her from the inside and thought it to be wedding nerves. ‘It’s past time to say our vows,’ Polly told her daughter and feared that she was being left again. ‘Polly, I need you to come with me.’ The priest motioned for her to follow. The walked down a long hallway that was behind the main room where she was met by two officers. She already knew the bad news and zoned out the man telling her about the wreck. She sat on the floor surrounded by white fabric but all she could feel was emptiness. After the church was cleared and she changed out of the dress she wandered around the city where she found herself in front of Madame Quinn’s parlor. Quinn was waiting outside for Polly and wrapped her in a warm embrace. Polly began to cry and yell, ‘WHY!? I found him! I listened just like you said! What the fuck Quinn?! What did I do wrong!’ Quinn took Polly’s hand, ‘My dear child, I told you many futures. This future wasn’t the one that was meant to be. Your soul now recognizes his. It will be easier next lifetime. Go home, raise your daughter, grow old, you’ll marry a man that will keep you company and you will be surrounded by your children and grandchildren. Your soul will now remember what to do and who to recognize. A future’s past only foresees a soul’s constant.

Fenton Friday: Week 4

Happy Fenton Friday everyone. I’m slowly getting back to myself. I did a lot of writing yesterday and my goals for today are posting Fenton details (and calling on ALL ideas and asking to please share the Collaborative Fenton Friday project) and to catch up on my doodle(s)washes. I finally got a new doodle book (it took so long because I couldn’t handle the anxiety of going to the store) and will catch up.

For all my new Fenton readers here are some links to catch up on:

Who is Fenton and Help Wanted
Fenton Friday: Week Two Collaboration Project
Fenton Friday: Week 3 Collaboration
Fenton Friday-Week 4 Collaboration (last call)
Fenton Friday Deadline Approaching
Fenton: Episode 1
Fenton Friday: July Week 1
Fenton Friday: July Wk 2-Collaborators WANTED
Fenton Friday: July Week 3

There are some great ideas floating in these collaborative posts even one about tunnels that we can work with. There are suggestions for names of the town and the characters as well.  I encourage anyone that has an idea of what to add or something to include in the second episode for Fenton you can leave it in the comments, pingback, or send a message.

 

Fenton Friday: July Week 3

I had a mini-heart attack when I was listening to a podcast that sounded like the same idea that I’m trying to do for Fenton Friday. I almost scrapped the whole project idea but decided that I really am passionate about Fenton and he has a different adventure. The difference between Fenton and the podcast is that one single author writes the next episode but with Fenton, we use a collaborative approach and use several ideas.

We have this week and next week before I put together another episode. Even though the first falls in the middle of the week I’m aiming for Friday, August 3 as the deadline to get any and all ideas in and the second episode to be posted on August 5th. I’m super excited for this episode as I would like to introduce more of the town and the setting in which Fenton is putting the desk.

My question for this week:

Is there anything specific about the town setting that we should include that is needed for future episodes?

As always you can leave a comment or send a message.

Happy Friday Everyone

 

Section 2 Lecture 6: Action

Well, I’m having the most difficult time wrapping my head around my class writing exercise. They’re covering, ‘don’t tell, show’ aspect of writing and how actions play a key roll in character building. In this exercise, timer set for 10 minutes, I choose a character (they provide in lecture notes) and the setting of a busy coffee shop when a really angry/unhappy stranger starts yelling at them. This is where I’m supposed to show not tell how my character reacts. Ugh, here goes nothing:


The constant chatter, the banging of cups against their mismatched saucers, customers ordering their skinny lattes with half pumps of flavoring, and baristas yelling customers by their misspelled names was almost too much for Agent Wayne Tanner. He just needed a quick pick-me-up boost before going back to work on Tabitha’s case. The missing girl case turned into a murder case. The crime scene was brutal and the photos did it too much justice. Taking in a deep swallow of caffeinated nectar his chair was pushed and coffee spilled all down the front of his new tie.
‘Get up! You’ve been sitting there long enough! There are other people here wanting to sit!’ the stranger yelled at Wayne. He just groaned and rolled his eyes as he wiped the coffee off. The coffee shop suddenly went quiet. The chair was hit again. The violence of the crime scene came rushing to the forefront of his thoughts and without realizing Agent Tanner stood while simultaneously kicking the chair out from underneath him. The agency badge now visible to the angry impatient stranger.
‘I understand that your hipster needs outweigh that of others as you would like to sit and enjoy your double foam extra shot of BS in a cup. I can see how your world is now turned upside and you will need a hug and a social media prayer chain. It’s more important that you feel all warm and comfortable in your natural surroundings than say a detective taking a much-needed break from finding a little girls killer. Heaven forbid if it was someone like your sister or mother but I’m sure you would understand that an important piece of evidence was overlooked when the detective wasn’t able to take the break needed to regroup long enough to drink a coffee and go back with fresh eyes. Who knows, maybe the killer is in here right at this moment and is overlooked because the detective was interrupted.


Shoot, my time is up! What do you think? Did I make the assignment? Did I tell or show?

Writing Exercise Lesson 2: Synopsis

So, this was an optional exercise to my writing course that I opted to try. I’m supposed to write in a genre I normally wouldn’t (wasn’t going to choose erotica but would love to dabble in that much like Anne Rice) and decided on romance. It WAS DIFFICULT. I spent an hour writing then realized I was writing an entire story. I was inspired by the daily prompt hosted by Dee and Kristian, Solace. I’m supposed to keep it 500-Words or less. Grr, so frustrated with this one. I kind of want to pursue this as a longer story but I don’t know if it’s worth it. Would you want to read this story?


After the Great Fall, the war of fallen democracy and the Cleansing Of the Sects, the religious war, Darcy made a vow to her heritage after these wars to keep her bloodline as pure as possible. She wanted to carry on her family’s old ways, be madly in love, and live the simple life of a pagan. The Sect of the Eight Divines meant nothing to her as she was an outcast branded as a heathen along with the rest of her people. They only controlled every aspect of life for the rest of the population.

Life was great until she ran into Joseph at the shopping arena. Her promise to herself is stronger than her will or so she thought. Joseph, a member of the Pure Sect, the highest in the colonies, is mesmerized by the simple pagan girl. His repeated attempts to win her over are rejected by Darcy but a slow friendship forms. They believe that the other wanted to keep a friendship not knowing of the sinful love they feel for each other until one fateful decision. Both in pain, not able to be with each other was almost too much to live with.

It’s either banishment for Joseph or Cleansing rights for Darcy. The decision was made for them long before they first set eyes on each other. Solace can be found in the most unknowingly wanted forms.

Fenton: Episode 1

The elderly shopkeeper greedily watched Fenton fumble around the antique furniture scoffing at his obvious lack in years of experience. From the angelic glow by his blonde hair to his thick black rimmed glasses she knew she would be able to take from his innocence double an item’s asking price.
‘That particular secretary wouldn’t suit you, dear.’ The keeper interrupted the young man thickly laying on the sweet old motherly act. He was opening drawers and pulling up a chair checking if the desk would fit his tall lanky body.
‘My grandmother had one just like this when I was growing up. She wrote some of her best letters to the family, recipes, and journal entries from her desk.’ He ran his fingers over the worn wooden top wondering if it WAS his grandmothers.
‘This secretary deserves a smart lifestyle, one befitting the wise craftsmanship. I can show you a sturdy desk that will better suit your needs within your budget.’ The shopkeep said trying to lead him to a cheaper commercial crafted desk. She thought she had him sold and would be able to get a markup from the original price.
‘No thank you, ma’am. I would like to purchase this one here.’ he said not lifting his hand from the item and before the old woman could say another word Fenton cooly said through a grin, ‘But not for the price listed. This particular piece of furniture, even though it was created by the town’s founding mother, isn’t worth the asking price. Her work is distinguished by the methods of inlaying different woods but her trademark isn’t engraved on any surface of this piece. It has obviously been neglected over the years and needs some basic restorations to bring it back to its novel glory of decades past. Do you have a certificate of authenticity?’ Fenton finished knowing he would’ve made his grandmother proud. In fact, she was the one that taught him how to haggle the best price out of the crafty antiquarians.
‘I’m sorry son, no I don’t have a certificate. It was lost through the years of passing from generation to generation. But you knowing who made the desk only proves that the price is more than adequate.’ Her voice trembled at the end now understanding her mistake of assuming the young man’s knowledge and negotiating skills. She needed to make a sale though. With the town’s younger generation moving out and it not being an awe-inspiring tourist destination, business was deathly slow.
‘I’ll purchase the desk for half the asking price. I could find one on eBay with a certificate for a better price than what I’m offering.’ Fenton said with confidence. Now if he was doing this correctly she would either call his bluff or….
‘I can’t let it go for that but what I am willing to do is take 25% off and let the matching chair go with it.’ She said more timidly this time knowing her imminent defeat. Fenton realized the shopkeeper was holding out on him.
‘May I see the chair?’ Fenton asked hiding his eagerness. The old woman disappeared into the darkness at the back of the store. The nimble woman reappears with a matching chair in obvious need of some TLC. The remnants of the red velvet cushion were holding on for dear life. When she set the chair down he noticed that the back was loose from the base of the chair. He wasn’t going to sit on it in fear of accidental demolishment.
‘How about I write up the ticket making you the new proud owner.’ She said hoping that the chair was enough to close the deal.
Fenton grinned, nodding in approval. The shopkeeper headed to her counter with the chair and he followed carrying the desk. It quietly rattled which he dismissed as it having loose legs and made a mental note to tighten those.
She quickly wrote out the ticket for the lowered price and handed it to Fenton to look over. ‘If you are not satisfied please bring the item back within 15 days.’
‘I thought there was a no return policy on items?’ Fenton said pointing to the sign behind her.
‘This desk is an exception which is written on your buyer’s ticket.’
‘I don’t think that will be an issue. He pulled cash from his wallet and the desk was his.’
‘Could you sign the guestbook? I send out flyers to customers about specials, coupons, and events.’ She asked shyly.
‘Oh, no problem.’ Fenton filled the register out with his name and address. The keeper spun the book around, ‘It was nice to meet you, Fenton.’ reading his name from the book. ‘I’m Abigail.’
Fenton shook her outreached hand.
‘Thank you. I’m glad to see this shop open. There are so few left in town. I hope to see you around. Thanks again and have a great day.
The bell chimed on the door from behind Fenton as he left the store. He carefully wrapped the desk in blankets and loaded the find in his jeep, beaming at his victory.


Episode Content Contributors:

Kristian
Stuart
The Ministry of Shrawley Walks

Fenton Friday Deadline Approaching

I have made the commitment for the first episode for Fenton Friday to be posted on July 1st. Am I committing to too much? I would like to think no and hope that I have more writers and artists volunteer the skills, opinions, and expertise along the way. If there are any last minute additions that would like to be added in please email or comment below. IF this is your first time following, search Fenton Fridays or Fenton and read from the beginning. I’m sure this will be the beginning of a new adventure…for everyone including our Fenton.

Got to squeeze in some writing lectures and there will be an announcement with the first Fent Episode. Happy Friday!

Fenton Friday-Week 4 Collaboration (last call)

Please be patient. I’m having to do this on my phone because of some utility worker’s mistake.

Wow, I can’t believe it’s the end of June (or the end approaching). I would like to thank everyone that has helped in the collaborative project adding a little bit of their time and imagination. My goal is to get the first ‘episode/post/installment’ of Fenton for everyone to read by July 1st.

Please read Fenton Project Updates and what was added so far to date and if you would like to add to our Fenton Project please do so either in the comments or email (really it’s whatever you are comfortable with).  Also, I’m still looking for a few individuals that would like to help put the final monthly pieces together. More explanations in previous posts listed:

I have to cut this short (utility worker talking to my husband and I’m going to go put my 2 cents in). Happy Fenton Friday everyone. I look forward to seeing what you guys come up with for Fenton’s first appearance.

Fenton Friday: Week 3 Collaboration

Good morning (afternoon?) to my Friday readers and bloggers.  I couldn’t paint last night because I think my diet is trying to kill me or at least slightly maim this poor girl. I was chopping vegetables for my lunch today and kind of sliced through my nail and into the nail bed. No stitches and with an applied band-aid all is well. Except, it hurts to apply pressure to my index finger making it hard to paint and write but It’s FRIDAY!  It’s Fenton Friday week 3 (I’ll try and catch up on my doodles and painting tonight).

Nothing really new has been added but this collaboration project is a work in progress. It gives people the chance to step away from a daily prompt and work together to bring a character, characters, towns, a whole serial fiction story to write. It won’t take much of your time to add a little insight or a little note to the story so feel free to leave something in the comments, pingback, and help out by sharing this adventure with others.

Recap from Week 2

As for Fenton. I see his as a young man in his late teens or very early twenties, 18-21. He is bookish and rather retiring. Shy but he comes out of his shell when people start talking about books or history. He is studying for something, degree or diploma and works part-time for a bit of extra money. He goes to museums a lot. Thank you again, Kristian, for giving Fenton an age and personality. I think it will serve him well and add a great deal to his adventure and to the creation of new characters (psst, welcome aboard). And he is uncovering something of a secret drawer society brilliantly introduced by Stu (glad you’ll be joining us). There is a lot of detail and I could be sensing a little suspense possible murder mystery? Did the secret drawer society be the founding fathers of the town? Let’s see what we can come up with. I think we can also work in the idea that Shrawley Walks (the video clip had me laughing and people were looking as if I gone off my rocker, oh, and thanks for coming along) brought to the discussion of the French manor house flooring being replaced. What if the house he’s staying in is part of the society? Or did he by the desk from the estate sale of the society’s house? And with a nudge from the Dark Netizen all contributions are going to have a word count of 500 or less. If more is needed just let us know. Enough to give us your thoughts and ideas.

Still in need of brave souls to help with putting the collaborations together and if you are interested, let me know. If you are curious about what and who is needed, check out Week 1 and Week 2.

Goals for Week 3:

We need some descriptions of our character Fenton. What does he look like? What does his room look like or the house? Is the story opening with him late for something? Let’s get the creative juices flowing with this. Y’all lead the way with the descriptions. Happy creating.
(I’m going to take a break from typing for a few)

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