… I blamed it on the dog…

I think I can manage that. Here goes …

When I am under stress I get dyslexic.

Normally this is no big deal. But when you are trying to cover up an epic mistake; trying to ease the glare of angry parentage and ensure survival until adulthood, it is good to be clear in speech when making THE excuse. For instance when my buddy and I … well let’s just say what we did made the international news. Unfortunately when I blamed it on the dog it totally backfired. For one thing we don’t actually have a dog. And my parents know full well my best friend is a deity.

Dyslexia did not help then!

Anyhoo, yesterday was 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups day. Since I found the last day and a half more suitable to sleeping then anything actually productive, I am just getting to it today. This week’s prompt is a photo:

It is interesting to me that for someone who likes both photography and writing, I sure have difficulty mixing the two. To me they are kind of different languages. Each can tell great stories, but try to translate from one to the other and the story loses something. That is why my photo blog is mostly just photos, and my written blogs mainly just has photos for eye appeal. So I have to admit that as much as this photo speaks to me, it is not really finding words in me. But I will give it a go anyway and see what I can squeeze out.

T was not looking forward to going into the study. He knew his dad was not at all happy, and T had to admit he might deserve what he was about to get. Ever since he had started hanging out with the Tank triplets he had been setting his dad to boil! Usually for good reason.

He knocked on the door. His dad practically whistled “Come in!” Oh yeah! His dad was steamed!

T meekly entered. His father was so hot he could barely sit still. He held up the letter that started “Dear Mr. Pot …” and said “Well?! …”

______________________

#1 Holding Hands

The first time she held a boy’s hand was on a dark lit bus and she had been punching his leg for being a jerk face, but he intercepted her fist with his own and gripped it tightly until,

#2 Calloused

“Your hands are really calloused,” he said while examining her rough palms and it all took her willpower not to punch his face.

#3 Break

The first time she falls for someone, she forgets that when you fall, you also break.

#4 Sleeve

She had always worn her heart on her sleeve and once she found the consequences of such, it was too late.

#5 Message

His messages–no matter how plain and stupid–were always stored in a different and more special folder on her phone.

#6 Bus

When they saw each other a year later,  she foolishly fled away just as the last bus arrived.

#7 Hide

Being friends with her proved to be quite easy; all she had to do was hide her feelings for him.

#8 Good

When he called her ugly in front of everyone, she knew he was too good to be true.

#9 Lie

She knew it when he lied but made no attempt to correct him.

#10 Eyes

He’d try to catch her eyes from his seat–5 rows away.

#11 Forrever

He promised her forever but left her before they could even start.

#12 Distraction

He was seated in front of her and therefore, she was always distracted.

#13 Ball

She imagined his head was the ball as she delivered an open-palmed strike.

#14 Smile

His smile made her day a whole lot better.

#15 Confession

She wished she liked his friend instead despite his humorous attempt to woo her with his confession.

#16 Rejection

The first time she rejected him left her hurting painfully.

#17 Friends

They could have been more-than-friends.

#18 Umbrella

When he offered his umbrella on a particularly rainy day, she thought that maybe chivalry wasn’t long dead.

#19 Sister

His little sister eyed her in a piercing gaze and all she could do was but to squirm in her seat.

# 20 Push and Pull

No matter how hard she tried to push her feelings for him, it always managed to pull her back.

# 21 Trouble

He always got them in trouble whenever the teacher was discussing something; he’d turn around and catch her attention.

# 22 Nightmare

Some nights she would wake up to terrible nightmares–mostly it was just him breaking her heart.

# 23 Months

The five months he courted her were too short for her to know him but too long for him to wait.

# 24 Past

He always used to say ‘it was all in the past’, and she wondered if they even had one.

# 25 Denial

So this week’s 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups seems hand picked for me!

The prompt this week is … in the dark recess of my mind … could that be a more perfect prompt for a Gloomy Gus or what? There is no way I could waste the opportunity! Of course there is that whole perverse side of me that always has to do things … slightly differently than expected. Even I am unsure exactly what my admittedly warped mind might come out with this time. We will all just have to wait a few and see. Here goes …

I used to have this recurring dream. A nightmare really. It took place in a school playground, though no school I actually recognized. It was always a dark and gloomy day, the stuff of horror movies. The dream always started with a bell announcing recess was starting, though it was an evil sounding bell.

In the dark recess of my mind, kids would play as one would expect on a school playground. Except what they were doing was totally unexpected. Warped even. Let’s just say if I go into details I might be weaving a few nightmares for others. It could make a nicely ghoulish movie someday!

The challenge this week was to write an article attached to the headline:

There’s a real buzz about this place.

I will have to admit ideas were not jumping out at me when I saw this, partly because of my current obsession for being the moody artist. Fortunately my moody artist stage has me meandering through memories, specifically the many canoe trips I took in summers past … trips that helped actually shape my creative spirit. One particularly buggy summer came to mind, with a memory mixed with humor and fear. It seemed a good memory to create from. So here is my article … loosely based on real events:

Black flies are always a menace. They are small and fast and leave a mean bite. But no one ever suspected they would be able to carry away a whole boy scout troupe. Witnesses were still shaking as they related seeing the troupe for the last time:

“We had been sharing the river with those boys for days!” one witness reported, “But the flies were so bad we could not go on. Yet those brave lads just kept going, not even flinching as they continued forward. We never saw them again!”

Rescue efforts continue but hope is not high.

Just don’t go on about it. Pleonasm is tiring.

Yesterday at Today I Think Patricia gave us the definition of the word pleonasm: the use of more words than necessary to express an idea, redundancy.

In my comment I said I would now have to find a use for the word and Patricia responded to let her know when and how I could work it into a conversation.  Well, I am not one to shirk a challenge, so here goes.

Photo credit NZ Herald

“Mr Prime Minister (we don’t have a President here in NZ) I think you should gather all your troops together and give them a lecture on pleonasm.  The speeches are far too long and very boring.”

Can’t find photo credit. It’s on so many sites.

“Madam, can you please just cut to the chase.  Pleonasm is tedious”.

Photo from habitsforahappyhome.wordpress.com/

“Mum, pleonasm is wasted on me.  Just tell me in a few words what I did wrong.”

I now have to ask Patricia “Are these examples OK?”

And everybody else, what could you do with this lovely new word PLEONASM.

And no words are required to describe my rainbow.

My rainbow

Related articles

• Pleonasms (neatorama.com)
• Why We’ll Miss Newspapers (andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com)
• Like nails on a chalkboard, part 1 (englishgrammargripe.com)

Obviously, these criteria are about as subjective as they come, but we are convinced that you guys will deliver the fantastic and that we’ll know it when we see it.  You have from 0-333 words to get it done.  Have fun.  And good luck!

 As another pain ripped through my belly I tried very hard not to scream, but the screams were getting louder. I just couldn’t help myself. My husband had been through this before. Just then the doctor told me to push and believe me I wasted no time in pushing child number three out. The doctor sang “Happy Birthday” and my husband was entranced with the vision of his son. This was our last child and he wished with all of his heart for a son to add to our family of girls. His wish came true!

Tessa

• RAYSON’S story
• Previous word count:    57240
• Chapter:     17
• Current word count:      59456
• Chapter:      17 Finished

• GUSTY’S story
• Previous word count:     24241
• Chapter:      17 Finished     
• Current word count:      25658
• Chapter:      18 Finished

A friend rings your doorbell way too early in the morning to be ringing doorbells. You answer the door in your PJs, and the friend says, “Pack a bag quickly. I have to get out of here now and need you to come with me.” You are intrigued.

Post your response (500 words or fewer).

I ended up using the same idea in this one, just with a different twist. I suppose this gets easier with time. This one is posted on another site. I have two different sites now that I am using. “Write on Edge” and “Writer’s Digest“

The wind was whistling outside my window, but I realized that wasn’t what woke we me up when I heard the doorbell again.

“What the hell,” I muttered jumping to my feet and headed downstairs to silence the offending doorbell. The clock said it wasn’t even 3 AM yet.

I threw open the door and Serena launched herself into my arms and said, “Pack a bag quickly. I have to get out of here now and need you to come with me.”

“Serena,” I pleaded, “Please let me go and I will go pack a bag. You know I would do anything for you.”

She reluctantly let me loose and I ran up the stairs and started throwing things into my duffel bag. I wondered what she was so excited about, but she had me intrigued and I was willing to help her out. I stepped quickly out of my pajamas and into the clothes I had worn yesterday.

Surprised she hadn’t followed me upstairs to make sure I didn’t go back to bed, I ran swiftly back down the stairs. She was standing by the door looking at her watch.

She grabbed my hand and half-dragged me out to her car. I threw my duffel bag into the back seat and jumped into the front seat just as she slammed her door and threw the car into reverse.

“Serena, what is wrong? ” I said. She practically ignored me as she muttered to herself that we were running out of time. Running out of time for what I wondered aloud, but she still didn’t answer.

She was driving swiftly and erratically. I was worried more about getting into an accident than getting stopped by a cop. I had never seen her like this. I had finally gotten my seat belt buckled and was holding onto the door handle for dear life. Serena just pressed harder on the gas pedal.

Suddenly she swerved onto Route 1 and again picked up speed. I was really beginning to wonder what she was doing now since this highway led to the launching pad they used to send the shuttles into space. There was nothing else down here except for woods, beach and ocean.

As we rushed into the parking lot of the space center I noticed there were no other people moving about. Serena found a space, pulled in, jumped out of the car and grabbed her bag.

“Come on Ryan,” she shouted excitedly. “Get your bag! We have to hurry!” Baffled I grabbed my bag and followed her toward the launching pad where a shuttle sat.

Rooting through her bag she pulled out an envelope and thrust it into my hands. I opened it, pulled out the card and started reading it. The card said, “ You and a friend have won a trip on the next shuttle provided you are the first one to arrive at the launching gate and present this card.”

Until the next time,

Tessa

Anyway I am actually proud of myself today. I sat down and managed to put  some work into BOTH books. Between the two tales, I managed to pump out almost 3600 words, which is a fairly decent effort methinks. Especially since I am still basically making it up as I go along.

So what changed?

Basically I stopped all my fretting over why bother. Or whether or not anyone does or will read my stuff or look at my creations. I got sucked into the whole popularity issue of blogging and writing, and was making myself miserable because it is basically so senseless to me, and yet really not worth me worrying about. I lost the whole point of why I started blogging, or writing my books in the first place. I had nothing to do with becoming famous, or rich. It was simply about the act of creation, and not hiding what I am creating. For years I wrote, took photographs, and dabbled in other forms of creation, and not a soul ever actually saw them. I started recognizing that maybe I have a modicum of talent, and even of the world does not fall in love with what I create one or two folk might enjoy it.

But only if they can see it.

So I will continue to post posts because I have something to say. Or something to share. And if no one sees it then no one sees it. At least I know it is not because I hid it from them.

And I will continue to write my books until the stories are told. Because these stories are demanding to be told and I am the tool they have chosen to do the telling. Even if I never actually manage to publish them, or make money out of them, the stories need to be written. If even one person reads them and gets something from them then it was well worth the effort.

I have regained the now. And will do my best to to hold onto it. I will make no promises that tomorrow I will do this or that with regards to the book. Or anything else for that matter.

All I can promise is I will continue to create NOW!

For more specifics about the books take a peek here or here.

Where has my fire gone?
Once it raged within, igniting the soul with passion.
But now it seems so cold.

My soul is shivering.

The fuel remains. Yet the fire has dimmed. Where once a word might spark a fire in another, now it seems a foggy breath. Even passion falls flat, becoming a mere echo of heat.

Where has that fire gone?
How did I let it die? How do I reignite it?
Even wet wood can burn brightly.
What did I do?

The flame flickered before.
Now barely an ember remains.
Where has my fire gone?
How do I get it back?

The other an effort to combat said state of mind:

The flame flickered before our eyes. Each time it licked a log it grew a bit more. The aromatic wood crackled as the flame grew, sending sparks into the clear night sky. I watched the sparks rising into the air, soon disappearing into the star-studded heavens. As the night grew darker, more stars appeared, as if the sparks our fire created were rising into the cosmos and filling it up. The sounds of nature sang to our ears, and a warm feeling of peace began to embrace me. A great sense of pending possibilities began to permeate my very essence.

The future awaits.

Unfortunately these days it lives in a body that makes the average tortoise say “Dude why you walking so slow?” Adventure is to my current life as water is to a bucket with a hole in the bottom. So my only chance of a little excitement is to live vicariously through others, which requires actual contact with others on occasion, or visiting the Land of What If. Lately I have been spending more time in other people’s imagination than my own, so I am giving myself a good whack and doing imagining of my own … prompted by none other than today’s 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups.

The prompt … use the following words: LIBERTY    EMPIRE    APPLE    YELLOW    ENORMOUS.

Hope my little adventure is actually adventurous …

A red and yellow glow surrounded the sun setting on the horizon. Layden thought that maybe it was actually beyond the limits of the empire … an almost inconceivable notion. And here he was, staring with wide eyes at the very heart of it. The city was enormous. His village would not even fill one block. Striker Malvant seemed unfazed, just munching away on an apple.

“Can we really do this?” Layden asked, a slight shake in his voice.

The old voice that answered was resolute. “We have to. We are the key to liberty. Failure is not an option.

Our destiny awaits.”

Reblogged from Josh Mosey | Writer:

Here's the challenge: Write a 26 word story, using the words in alphabetical order. Here's my example:

Arthur Bellows came down effortlessly, falling.
Ground.
Hit innocently?
Jumped?
Killed?
Laughter maniacal.
Now others peered quizzically 'round Sir Thomas.
"Unfortunate," eXplained Vicar Wilson. "Yahweh's Zephyr."

If you have a blog, leave a link in the comments. If you don't, just leave the story as a comment so we can enjoy your work.

Read more… 33 more words

Today’s prompt is actually a picture (you can see it at the end of my creation). My cheeked tongue seems to still have a morose twist about it, but all in good fun. I hope you enjoy!

Even today the horrible event still shocks us!

Few still can believe that something so apparently … FUN … could cause such a tragedy. The game had been a party favorite since its inception back in 1966. It was unimaginable that it such a thing could happen.

Yet it did.

There were always those who needed to push the limits; who needed to take things just that one step too far. But lesson learned. There IS a limit to the number of individuals who can play Twister at one time.

As can be seen, they couldn’t even unravel the bodies!

Not to worry. Today also happens to be Monday, which means it is also the 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups day. No doubt an inspiring prompt just waiting for me to run with it. Lo an behold, ding goes the phone … bing goes the email … and a prompt arrives. This week a simple prompt: Ruby.

And (drumroll please) …

I still have nothing.

I have mentioned before that I have a certain character trait (flaw?) that is showing up at the moment. I am great at starting things … not so good at finishing them. Yet the odd thing is that in reality, I am not really finishing anything. It is not like I am going to suddenly stop blogging. Maybe a little less often but even that is no guarantee. I can’t really blame my lack of ideas on some perceived flaw in my character. So have I simply psyched myself out? Or am I just tired?

I thought that if I did my usual just start typing and rambling until something forms thang I might come up with something, but no such luck today. My mind is just a blind man walking in an unfamiliar place on a foggy night. I suppose I could wait until tomorrow in the hopes of coming up with something, but another character flaw (trait?) is sheer stubbornness. So I will force something out now and see if it is worth reading later.

A ruby by any other name (an ode to OPULENCE)

Oh pretty pretty shiny thing,
my attention you do get!
Shimmering there in the light,
I will have you yet!

You are just a thing,
but that doesn’t matter.
As long as your pretty shininess
causes a crowd to gather.

I will impress the masses,
with my shiny little stone.
Watch as they envy me,
with eyes widely grown.

I could put you in a ring,
or maybe on my head.
Such a shiny shiny thing
A ruby since you’re red.

But if you are another color,
should any one inquire,
We will call you another name,
shiny shiny sapphire.

A bit o’ nonzenze, and zadly nothing to do with the letter Z. But what can a perzon do?

ZE END.

This post may rank up there with one of my oddest creations. It is serving multiple purposes, not the least trying to get my mind back into the groove of actual creativity again. First it is my V post in the A to Z challenge. V seems to bring out my more zany side (couldn’t think of a word like zany that begins with V) as can be seen by my V post from last year.

This post is also my entry in this weeks 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups. In an effort to give us poor souls a break after the last few weeks of seriously challenging us, we are given a seemingly straightforward prompt :

….I’m exhausted. Shut the door behind you….

Ironically, I seem to have more difficulty with the straightforward prompts then the more involved ones. For one it is difficult to do my trademark shift of meaning when it is a simple statement. But I banged my head about for a bit and came up with this bit o nonsense:

Walks Up Stairs Two At A Time tiredly returned to the village. It had been a very busy day. Wears A Big Hat always seemed to assign the hardest tasks to him. And usually the farthest away too. Building There Is A Whole In The Roof’s barn had been hard work! Walks Up Stairs Two At A Time was ready for a nice rest. Of course there was one of Wears A Bigs Hat’s minions approaching, no doubt with a new task. To prevent further work, Walks Up Stairs Two At A Time spoke first. “No more assignments please! I’m exhausted Shut The Door Behind You!

Today being P day in the A to Z Challenge, I find that I have Plenty of P words the I can Pick. Picking just one Presents me with Peculiar Problems, so I have Proceeded to Post about a few of the Possibilities.

PHOTOGRAPHY: This seems a Pleasant time to Plug my Photo blog, and I even Posted a P Post called Playing with Photographic Perception on there today (though the Photos are Pretty Poor).

PATIENCE: It seems I have little Patience for much of anything Presently. This may be Perceived in the Poor quality of many of my recent Presentations (including the Present Post).

PURPOSE: I seem to be Playing with ideas about the Point of it all again. I am being Plagued by Persistent thoughts on the whole Purpose of my Posting Posts, as well as Pursuing Projects that may Possibly be well Past my Potential.  It is all seeming Pretend. Perhaps I need to let it Percolate a bit.

PLANS: Probably I need to Plan my Pastimes more Perfectly. Presently I have no actual Path I am following. I Postulate Proper Planning will Present me with a firmer sense of Purpose. I have a Potential new Pattern to Pursue, such as Postponing Play until I have Properly Put work into Projects. Play well at not Persistently Playing.

PICKLES: I Presently seem to Perceive an unexpected Passion for a Pickle. Perhaps I am Pregnant?

Blood. So much blood. Blood soaked the dirt path, beaten down by the feet of my Japanese brothers and sisters that had walked these roads for centuries. They were all now soaked in their own blood. I hate blood. It reminds me of the day my father died. He died soaked in his own blood when a Samurai killed him by cutting a main artery and letting him bleed to death. I was seven. Ever since that day I’ve hated the sight of Samurai. An uncontrollable rage was born inside of me. Sensei always says not too let our emotions get the best of us, that ninja are to observe and attack the enemy’s weaknesses. For me it doesn’t work that way. I guess I’ve always been a hothead and when I see Samurai, my head almost explodes. Sensei hates it. I hate it. But it’s reality. I haven’t been able to change. Yet. I look around and see that I’m surrounded by maimed corpses. Most have been dead for days. The flies are already buzzing around them. The place reeks of death. I hate the smell of death. But I’m always getting assigned clean-up assignments because of my “questionable” tactics in battle. Even though I’m the strongest ninja of my age, I’m supposedly too compromised to emotion to be assigned any important missions.

Crunch.

I whirl around in a circle, quickly drawing my katana in my right hand and three shuriken in my left. My eye catches movement to my left, in a small burned down hut. Through my years as a ninja I’ve become numb to destruction, but something about this burnt down hut brings pain to my heart. It reminds me of the hut I’d lived in as a child with my mother and father and of the day the samurai came to destroy what I loved so much. The memory brought rage to the surface with renewed hatred.

I walk into the hut without regard to caution. I look around quickly, taking in my surroundings. A doll lay on the floor with it’s head ripped off. Two dead adults lay in each other’s arms, dead on the floor, their blood soaked into the floorboards. It was a disgusting sight. Suddenly something struck me as odd. There were only two dead bodies, but both were adults. If there was a doll… then they had a child.

I sense movement behind me. Without even a glance, I know it’s the child. A little girl. In a way it was common sense, but in a way it was also my training. Sensei was continuously training our minds, sharpening them until they were as sharp as our katanas.

“It’s okay.” I said. “I won’t hurt you.” I turned towards the movement, and saw a small figure in the shadows.

“Step out of the shadows.” I said.

“I don’t trust people who carry swords…”

“It’s for protection.”

“From whom?”

“The Samurai.”

I see the figure shudder at the word samurai.

“It’s okay. They’re gone. I’ve been scouting the area. I’ve seen no sign of life.”

“You mean… everyone in the village is dead?”

“Well… yes. I’m sorry.”

“Oh…” I heard the squeaky voice barely whisper. I felt sympathy for her. I remembered how I felt when I discovered that my village had been destroyed. I imagined the hatred she must be feeling for the Samurai. For killing her parents. For killing her friends. For destroying all she cared about.

A small foot stepped out from the shadows, followed by another. Then I saw the face of the little girl. Her face was so young, but her eyes looked much older. So full of pain. Full of memory. I wonder if that’s how I looked when I discovered everything I cared about was destroyed. No. My eyes probably had more hate. There was no trace of hate in this little girl’s eyes.

“What’s your name?” I asked, trying my hardest to talk sweetly, which was hard with the bitter feelings rising inside my chest.

“Kurenai.” She replied. I froze. My sister had always wanted to name her daughter Kurenai. I shook away the thought.

“I’m Takashi.” I replied. “I’m going to take care of you.” She nodded. I wasn’t sure if she believed me, but she must have decided her best bet was to go with me. She was a survivor.

“Follow me.” I said.

“Where?”

“To our base. It’s not far.”

“Am I going to be a ninja?”

I heard fear in her voice. She didn’t want to be a ninja. Her eyes were like doors to her soul. Reflecting her thoughts. I could tell that she’d hate to kill anything, just from looking into her eyes. They were haunting.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.”
“But seeing you survived the attack I’d expect you’d make a pretty good one!” A shrug. All I got was a shrug.

I walked out the door, turning away from her, trying to shake the haunting look of her eyes. It was too painful to bear. But not looking didn’t help. It felt as if my back had a thousand pound load upon it.

I looked around me at the tall trees. We were nearing our destination. I remembered my first time walking into these woods. Every little noise frightened me. I was shaken badly. It seemed like every movement could be a concealed samurai.

Light poured down from the canopy of leaves above, a whirling pattern of shadow on the grass underfoot, like a leopard and a tiger mixed in one pelt. The grass was thick and soft, making almost no sound when stepped upon. Around us were several traps I knew to avoid. Trip wires set to send shuriken through the skull of the passerby. I made sure Kurenai did not step on these. The traps were cruel to anyone who made the mistake of triggering them. They seemed to take pleasure in long deaths, always hitting the target in a painful spot and leaving them writhing for hours. I couldn’t stand to see Kurenai in that kind of pain.

This thought shocked me. Why should I care if the child dies? Was it because she reminded me of… myself? Of me, without hate?

I felt a tear run down my face. My connection with this little girl was deeper. Much deeper. I realized why her eyes haunted me so, why my mind was flooded with so many memories. This was my sister’s daughter. I hadn’t looked at the two dead adults long, but now looking at the girl I knew it was true. She had my sister’s high cheekbones, long nose and soft, silky black hair.

Swiftly the girl’s eyes moved through many emotions. Confusion, excitement, and a whole lot of curiosity. She must have gotten that from her mother. My mother had always said Haku was a curious one. I guess it passed down to her daughter, as our family’s deep eyes always have. As our mother’s beautiful singing voice was carried on in Haku and I. I could hear the haunting sound of my sister’s voice in my head, singing of peace and rest. Oh Haku… I guess that’s what you have now. I looked down at Kurenai.

“You’re my niece.” I said. A soft smile played on her lips, and without hesitation she flew into my arms. I don’t know if it was because her emotions were playing with her, or she was genuinely happy to have me for an uncle, but I didn’t hesitate to hug her. The wind rustled through the trees. It was growing dark. and as it grew dark, I felt a darkness lifting from my soul. I no longer hated. I still had something to love. And with love in one’s heart it becomes very hard to hate. The tree’s shadows grew long. The grass grows cool to the touch of my bare feet.

TWO MONTHS LATER

I stand atop a hill, with my three pupils by my side. Kurenai, Sasuke and Jiryai. After meeting Kurenai, Sensei recognized my change in heart, and had me promoted. I’m now the youngest Sensei of all time.

I gaze down into the valley that we’ve been assigned to protect. I secretely hope no Samurai show up. I fear putting Kurenai at risk if they came. What a change of heart. What had once been cold, was now full of warmth!

The rice field in the valley below us rustled in the cool breeze that whispered across the land. I saw movement in the field. I signaled for Sasuke and Jiryai to move in. They both sprinted off, one to the left the other to the right. They were so fast! So talented. I had no doubt they could handle whatever came their way. Kurenai and I sprinted down the steep hill, leopards pursuing their prey. Kurenai’s hair hung loose and blew around in the wind behind her. We both drew our katanas. Suddenly it happened. I saw a knife thrown from the left, in a thicker clump of rice stalks. The knife cut through branches as it flew. My mind remembered a knife just like this one thrown at my father. It sliced his throat, leaving him bleeding to death. I instantly knew what I had to do, to preserve what family I had left. I jumped and felt the knife sink into my back. I heard Kurenai shriek, and barely registered her running to my side. I was fading fast. All I had left for Kurenai was a whisper. A last sign of the love she’d put in my heart. “Kurenai, don’t let your heart hate, only love brings life.” She was choked up and couldn’t reply, she only nodded and let the sobs rock her body. As my last breaths are leaving me, I wonder about what it would be like to die. I guess I’m about to find out. But this journey was over.

I closed my eyes and felt a flash of light, and awoke, to see me father, sitting by a fire. The fire seemed to leap with a life of it’s own.

“Father?”

“Son.”

“It is good to see you!”

“And you! I’m glad your life’s path has ended.”

My first reaction to the suggestion was to scream in horror and dive under my desk.

As much as I was waiting for the prompt today, this is the first one I was seriously tempted to pass by. While I academically ”know “what a sonnet is  … I basically have no clue what a sonnet is. And poetry is one of those things that stumps me completely.

So of course being the stubborn cuss that I am and being a pro at biting of more than I can chew I figured why not go ahead and try. So I looked up sonnet on the internet, thoroughly read a couple of information filled articles about them, and … still have no idea what a sonnet actually is. So I tried to channel my inner Bill. And realized I don’t have an inner Bill. Not an auspicious start.

The only thing I have going for me is a sense of rhythm and an ability to rhyme … sort of. So I guess that will have to be enough. Here goes:

Well, in the jungle, the mighty jungle
Many a beastie is sure to be found.
But our chronicler has made a bungle.
For in these lands no jungle is around.
Though one beastie did once wander these shores,
A beast that filled many a soul with fear.
Locals, tired of hiding behind closed doors,
Sent (loud) word out for any heroes near.
A brave lad named George did answer the call.
He proudly stomped forward, thumping his chest.
A small lad really, not at all that tall.
“I will” he said. “The Creature I will best!”
To the shock of many, he did just that.
Earning George’s back a well deserved pat.

Why am I so gloomy? I am not sure I kan explain. I am feeling rather like I am inkapable of “klosing the deal” lately. Like I am just spinning wheels and not aktually achieving much of anything. It is not a  new feeling, but it kreeps bakk every once in a while. Especially when I put effort into something and seem to get little return on it. Being kreative usually helps, but when the kreative juices dry up a bit, it kan be frustrating.

Lately my kamera is my best kreative outlet, but today, when I pulled out the kamera with specifik ideas in mind … I flopped kompletely. I did manage to kapture a kool pik of one of the kat’s I live with, but that one was mostly a mistake. Then I jumped into the J post (wich kaused me diffikulty too). Once I managed to kome up with something … I started thinking about the K post and kould not think of a thing.

Ah well! Guess I kan’t kill it every day!