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Monthly Short Story Contest
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2022 March In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb
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Glenda wrote: "**POSTING ON BEHALF OF DAVID RUSSELL**Theme: In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb
This theme is based on the adage attributed to the month of March and is traced to ancestral beliefs concerning balanc..."
Hello Writers 750,
We are into the second week for the current theme. If you are stumped on where to take your story - consider:
- A business venture that started out rocky or smooth and ended rocky or smooth.
- A family crisis that started rocky or smooth, and ended rocky or smooth.
- A goal that again, started rocky or smooth and ended rocky or smooth.
The key element in this adage, In like a lion, out like a lamb, is the concept of balance being achieved.
I will check back at random for replies/story submissions.
Best,
David Russell
Mod
We are into the second week for the current theme. If you are stumped on where to take your story..."
I've been working on a story. I only have 537 words though. I know that there is a lot of bad stuff going on in our country & the world. It's more like an ongoing in like a Lion thing.
Glenda wrote: "David wrote: Hello Writers 750,We are into the second week for the current theme. If you are stumped on where to take your story..."
I've been working on a story. I only have 537 words though. I ..."
Hi Glenda and others,
I understand where you are coming from, and have been there myself. I know you will make the decision that is right for you concerning your work in progress.
Peace to you and yours,
David
Mod
We consider ourselves survivors. After all, who can say that they literally stood, bracing their weight against a glass patio door against the winds of the category 5 Hurricane Michael and lived to tell the tale? I choose to believe that God was hearing our prayers as we watched tall trees bend back and forth, never landing on our house before crashing to the ground. It wasn’t until after this devastating experience that I discovered the powerful promises in Psalm 91 that I will cherish for the rest of my life. I could picture in my mind’s eye a vision of a giant of an angel in white robes taking his sword out of its sheath and holding a giant shield. With these, the angel kept us safe from the monstrous winds and flying objects.
March is certainly coming in like a lion. As the March winds have increased in strength, a small fire near my city in Bay County Florida has spread and consumed thousands of acres. For several days we could see smoke rising on the northern horizon, mostly in the afternoon. The stench of smoke gathered in our garage. One unfortunate household that lost their home during Hurricane Michael reported that their new home was claimed by the fire. There are now reported four different fires in this county. It was as if demonic angels, servants of the Prince of the air, had spewed fire and fanned their wings to stoke the flames.
Horse owners scrambled to pack all first-aid, saddles, bridles, blankets, and other necessities. Land owners with large acreage offered to take in these animals during this emergency. A couch to sleep on near her horse was all one friend wanted. A large trailer of hay was brought in. They provided a safe haven for sixteen horses. But what about other animals such as bears, foxes, coyotes, raccoons, and other wildlife? They won’t be so fortunate – so I thought. But God will provide a way for his creation too. The Bible says, “Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!” Luke 12:24
Firefighters have come from all over the state to battle the fires. Some traveled all night long from Naples, Florida in the Southwest part of the state. Upon hearing this, I got emotional and thanked God that there are still good people to come to one’s aid, especially when Governor Ron Desantis came to the microphone to give an update on the wildfire. Desantis was surely placed in his position by God for such a time as this that we’re living in. We welcomed the long awaited rains that continued for more than a day. It came as a light rain and then progressed to a real down pour. “Surely this will help contain the fires,” were the thoughts that echoed in everyone’s mind.
A new winter storm formed after the rain event. It caused 60 mile an hour winds. We were unaware that a tornado had formed in our area, but no one was hurt. Thank you, guardian angel for once again looking out for us.
No one expected war to happen in March. News of the Russian-Ukraine war saddens the soul as well as adds to depression. Confusion and sadness have taken residency in my mind about what is playing out. But the innocent shouldn’t suffer at the hands of a tyrannical country. Though it seems that the world is spinning out of control, that things are increasingly getting out of hand, making it difficult to live, and sending us into a cloud of depression, hope is not gone.
Our circumstances are temporary. God’s promises are forever. “Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death? No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us…And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:35-39
“You [God] will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you! Trust in the Lord always, for the Lord God is the eternal Rock,” Isaiah 26:3-4.
May joy and peace flood your soul. Let go and let God.
Glenda, As I read your story I felt these are three vignettes that handle the theme very, very well. I like the time you take to imagine and describe the variety of existent wildlife, horse and or land owners, and the affect from the current misfortune in the Ukraine. Perhaps you might do a little more revision and seek out an online venue or random anthology to send this piece.
Best,
David Russell
Janet, I like your story reading it sounds like the world will are living in now. The storms, firers, and wars. Right now people and animals need help all over the world. I like how you kelp God in the picture and use scriptures in the Bible to help support it. God is the center of my life and the world is going to waste.
Mod
Thank you, Janet. I did revise a third of my story and didn't talk about politics, although it is because of politics (the war, price of gas, covid lockdowns, masking, etc.) that we are in the mess we're in. It doesn't matter what our politics are when it comes to overcoming depression and a feeling of defeat. I choose to believe in the Almighty God and the promises that he has given us. This world isn't our home; we're just passing through.
Hi Everyone,First, question for Glenda: Is the title of your story the first sentence, "We Consider Ourselves Survivors"?
Today is March 15, and there are 10 days remaining in this month's story challenge. Thus far our story count is one, that submitted by Glenda. I would like to propose that unless we have a minimum of five stories by March 25 that voting be suspended and comments encouraged.
Janet, thank you for your comment on Glenda's story, too. May we remain in the protection of our Lord God.
Best,
David Russell
Mod
Glenda, thanks for verifying your story title. I so noted.Recently, I have run across the phrase 'under his wings' a few times in things read. I take that as a personal reminder to position myself under the wings and shadow of our Lord God.
Best,
David
David wrote: "Hi Everyone,First, question for Glenda: Is the title of your story the first sentence, "We Consider Ourselves Survivors"?
Today is March 15, and there are 10 days remaining in this month's story ..."
I am usually the first one to write but major works in my subdivision have kept me busy, carrying over through April. I will try not only to find some time but to get some inspiration amidst the torments.
YENIFER OF VANDENBERG
987 words by terry
The sound of swords clashing could be heard beyond the castle walls and up the granite stone stairwells. Archers hustled to arrow slits in the walls to defend the castle from invaders. When it was over, a dozen of the King’s finest guards lay dead on the ground before the gates could be closed. By the time the archers were in place, the perpetrator had vanished.
In the upper chamber, the King had assembled his closest advisors, soothsayer, and dependable seer to find out what had happened and why. The seer gazed into a crystal to obtain an answer for the King.
“What is it, Sorrus,” the King asked of the seer.
“It was a woman warrior fighting alone who killed a dozen royal guards,” your majesty. “Her name is Yenifer of Vandenberg.”
“One woman killed twelve of my men? Unbelievable! Why did she attack?”
“Fourteen years ago, you ordered the annihilation of all elves in the Northern province. She was seven years old when her father was executed by the army with a spear through the heart. It was believed, after your invasion, that some of the elves took refuge in caves or hid in the magic forest. No one knew for sure, how many had escaped but they were considered to be of no threat so the generals let them be, thinking they had made their message clear.
The soothsayer spoke up saying, Yenifer’s father was one-half elf; a child of a human father and elf mother. The attack today was a message that she would return to destroy this castle.”
“And when will this attack be coming,” the King asked?
“That part of the image plays out very hazy before my eyes,” your Majesty. “There is much chaos, screaming, and fire for sure but behind all of that is something very dark. Magic perhaps.”
While the King scrambled to decide what to do, Yenifer was on her way to visit the great wizard who lived on the sacred mountain of the West. She waited for two days after arriving before the wizard granted an audience.
The elves that lived in peace on the sacred mountain speculated as to the nature of this rare and beautiful girl’s reason for visiting. Some said she was an elf but others disagreed saying she was human. Others said she was a witch.
The details of Yenifer’s meeting with the wizard were never revealed to outsiders but after two moons Yenifer left the sacred mountain riding on the back of a black dragon.
During the two months of lull, the soothsayer prompted the King to hire a powerful witch from the black forest of Normandy to aid in the battle, if it was to ever come about. The King gave much thought to the idea but was reluctant to have a witch of unknown magical powers in his castle. However, when spies brought in news that an attack by elves, led by Yenifer, was imminent, he sent for the witch and charged the seer to keep a close watch on her.
The elf army of five thousand had taken up an assault position in the forest that surrounded the castle waiting for Yenifer to give the call for battle.
The King was confident that his army had the advantage of the moat and high rock walls surrounding his kingdom. Expert archers were stationed at every slit in the wall and the cavalry was standing inside the gate dressed for battle.
Yenifer came out into the clearing sitting on the back of the black dragon with elf soldiers to her left and right. A few arrows from the King’s strongest archers flew through the air toward her which served as a warning but all fell short of their target.
Then the King’s hired witch appeared atop the rampart and conjured up a spell of fireballs that she flung one at a time but the dragon caught them in his mouth and spit them back toward the witch smashing against the rampart wall. The witch tried fireballs again and again, sometimes two and three at a time but the black dragon repelled her magic at every turn.
The King realized the witch would be of no help to his army so he commanded the gate to be opened and the cavalry charged forth. A great battle ensued and Yenifer took to the sky on the dragon’s back. Fire burst from the dragon’s mouth sweeping across the top of the walls burning the archers alive. Many escaped by falling to the ground only to be taken captive by the elf army. The dragon’s fire set ablaze the wooden structures inside the walls destroying the King’s stockpiles of arrows and gunpowder.
Yenifer and her dragon continued to wreak havoc from above on the kingdom but spared the housing where the women and children were hiding.
From his position high in the castle tower, the King could see that the battle was lost. He ordered the white flag to be hoisted to save what was left of his kingdom. The fighting stopped immediately and a great cheer went up from the invading elf army. When the witch saw the white flag, she hurried to the maiden's chamber. Once there, she gathered the crown jewels putting them in a burlap bag. Then she opened a portal in which to instantly travel back to Normandy. But before she could escape, a dagger ripped her throat open. Sorrus caught the bag as it fell and shoved the dying witch into the portal.
In the days that followed, the King and his generals were executed for the crimes committed over the years against the elves and other inhabitants of the land. Then, a great celebration was declared across the entire Northern continent.
The elves, humans, animals, and birds continue the great celebration year after year in the month of March which has become known as Yenifer Vandenberg Day.
987 words by terry
The sound of swords clashing could be heard beyond the castle walls and up the granite stone stairwells. Archers hustled to arrow slits in the walls to defend the castle from invaders. When it was over, a dozen of the King’s finest guards lay dead on the ground before the gates could be closed. By the time the archers were in place, the perpetrator had vanished.
In the upper chamber, the King had assembled his closest advisors, soothsayer, and dependable seer to find out what had happened and why. The seer gazed into a crystal to obtain an answer for the King.
“What is it, Sorrus,” the King asked of the seer.
“It was a woman warrior fighting alone who killed a dozen royal guards,” your majesty. “Her name is Yenifer of Vandenberg.”
“One woman killed twelve of my men? Unbelievable! Why did she attack?”
“Fourteen years ago, you ordered the annihilation of all elves in the Northern province. She was seven years old when her father was executed by the army with a spear through the heart. It was believed, after your invasion, that some of the elves took refuge in caves or hid in the magic forest. No one knew for sure, how many had escaped but they were considered to be of no threat so the generals let them be, thinking they had made their message clear.
The soothsayer spoke up saying, Yenifer’s father was one-half elf; a child of a human father and elf mother. The attack today was a message that she would return to destroy this castle.”
“And when will this attack be coming,” the King asked?
“That part of the image plays out very hazy before my eyes,” your Majesty. “There is much chaos, screaming, and fire for sure but behind all of that is something very dark. Magic perhaps.”
While the King scrambled to decide what to do, Yenifer was on her way to visit the great wizard who lived on the sacred mountain of the West. She waited for two days after arriving before the wizard granted an audience.
The elves that lived in peace on the sacred mountain speculated as to the nature of this rare and beautiful girl’s reason for visiting. Some said she was an elf but others disagreed saying she was human. Others said she was a witch.
The details of Yenifer’s meeting with the wizard were never revealed to outsiders but after two moons Yenifer left the sacred mountain riding on the back of a black dragon.
During the two months of lull, the soothsayer prompted the King to hire a powerful witch from the black forest of Normandy to aid in the battle, if it was to ever come about. The King gave much thought to the idea but was reluctant to have a witch of unknown magical powers in his castle. However, when spies brought in news that an attack by elves, led by Yenifer, was imminent, he sent for the witch and charged the seer to keep a close watch on her.
The elf army of five thousand had taken up an assault position in the forest that surrounded the castle waiting for Yenifer to give the call for battle.
The King was confident that his army had the advantage of the moat and high rock walls surrounding his kingdom. Expert archers were stationed at every slit in the wall and the cavalry was standing inside the gate dressed for battle.
Yenifer came out into the clearing sitting on the back of the black dragon with elf soldiers to her left and right. A few arrows from the King’s strongest archers flew through the air toward her which served as a warning but all fell short of their target.
Then the King’s hired witch appeared atop the rampart and conjured up a spell of fireballs that she flung one at a time but the dragon caught them in his mouth and spit them back toward the witch smashing against the rampart wall. The witch tried fireballs again and again, sometimes two and three at a time but the black dragon repelled her magic at every turn.
The King realized the witch would be of no help to his army so he commanded the gate to be opened and the cavalry charged forth. A great battle ensued and Yenifer took to the sky on the dragon’s back. Fire burst from the dragon’s mouth sweeping across the top of the walls burning the archers alive. Many escaped by falling to the ground only to be taken captive by the elf army. The dragon’s fire set ablaze the wooden structures inside the walls destroying the King’s stockpiles of arrows and gunpowder.
Yenifer and her dragon continued to wreak havoc from above on the kingdom but spared the housing where the women and children were hiding.
From his position high in the castle tower, the King could see that the battle was lost. He ordered the white flag to be hoisted to save what was left of his kingdom. The fighting stopped immediately and a great cheer went up from the invading elf army. When the witch saw the white flag, she hurried to the maiden's chamber. Once there, she gathered the crown jewels putting them in a burlap bag. Then she opened a portal in which to instantly travel back to Normandy. But before she could escape, a dagger ripped her throat open. Sorrus caught the bag as it fell and shoved the dying witch into the portal.
In the days that followed, the King and his generals were executed for the crimes committed over the years against the elves and other inhabitants of the land. Then, a great celebration was declared across the entire Northern continent.
The elves, humans, animals, and birds continue the great celebration year after year in the month of March which has become known as Yenifer Vandenberg Day.
Wow, Glenda. Powerful message. Thanks for making my day.
Glenda wrote: "The Shadow of the Almighty (794 words)
We consider ourselves survivors. After all, who can say that they literally stood, bracing their weight against a glass patio door against the winds of the c..."
Glenda wrote: "The Shadow of the Almighty (794 words)
We consider ourselves survivors. After all, who can say that they literally stood, bracing their weight against a glass patio door against the winds of the c..."
Mod
Hello Everyone,Comments to Mirta and to Terry are below.
Mirta, nice to hear from you on this thread. I wish you all the best and understand your time at present is filled with other activity.
Terry, good narrative to your story, which I read as "ModYenifer of Vandenberg."
I know critique is discouraged here, but are you implying the annual day at the end of your story to be within the month of March?
Indirectly, the theme is present, or so it seems.
Best,
David
It was unclear as to the requirement to mention March.
David wrote: "Hello Everyone,
Comments to Mirta and to Terry are below.
Mirta, nice to hear from you on this thread. I wish you all the best and understand your time at present is filled with other activity.
Ter..."
David wrote: "Hello Everyone,
Comments to Mirta and to Terry are below.
Mirta, nice to hear from you on this thread. I wish you all the best and understand your time at present is filled with other activity.
Ter..."
Mod
I usually don't use the word "adage". I just looked it up:
Definition of adage: a saying often in metaphorical form that typically embodies a common observation.
Heck, Terry, hit the "edit" link and add a sentence or two about March. Otherwise, I think it's perfect.
I added 4 words I think, in the last para.
Glenda wrote: "David wrote: "are you implying the annual day at the end of your story to be within the month of March?...
I usually don't use the word "adage". I just looked it up:
Definition of adage: a saying ..."
Glenda wrote: "David wrote: "are you implying the annual day at the end of your story to be within the month of March?...
I usually don't use the word "adage". I just looked it up:
Definition of adage: a saying ..."
Mod
Looks good to me.
Hi Everyone,When I list the stories for the month on the 25th, I will include Terry's story if we have five or more by then for voting.
Thanks to each of you.
David
I'll be submitting my story by mid-week...and comments as well...
Hi Everyone,For those planning to submit a story to the monthly theme, please try and do so on or by March 24, 2022. This gives everyone a chance to read before placing their vote if they are going to do so.
Thank you for your consideration.
Best,
David Russell
THE SWITCH“What’s that ya’ got in yer hands?” questioned Jimmy, staring at his bother.
“You should know. You can sense it. I know you can. Now tell me,” demanded Jerry.
“Aaahh, it’s a quarter.”
“Quit yer’ damn foolin’ around,” snapped Jerry. “Now, c’mon, try again.”
“Oh all-right,” quipped Jimmy. “It’s a marble. A beautiful jade-colored marble.” Jerry opened his fist and, in the middle of his palm, an orb of the deepest green glistened.
“Now, don’t fool around tonight okay?” he grilled, eying his brother. “We can’t afford to lose anymore, ya’ hear me?”
“Yeah, sure bro, sure.”
Now, c’mon kiddo, Let’s go,” said Jerry, anxiously nudging his brother on the shoulder as they walked out from their apartment and into the streets.
The tavern was dingy-looking from the outside. A small wooded porch covering the entrance way looked somewhat odd against crumbling rust-colored bricks with a thick, opaque glass window that barely shed light in the dimly lit establishment. The American Hotel, written in scarcely visible white paint near the top of the building and faded after years of neglect, hid a library of memories. A couple of regulars, sitting inconspicuously at a small, round table in a corner of the room, sipped their drafts; their laughter muffled by the balladeer George Jones’ lonely crooning ‘He Stopped Lovin’ Her Today’ on the museum-destined jukebox. Their ashtray, filled with butts, was centered on a tablecloth that reeked of stale beers and even staler reminiscences. Mabel, a grumpy, beer-belied man who stood 6 feet, 4 inches tall with shoulders so broad he had to turn slightly sideways to walk through the doors, reached for a pair of draft glasses and growled at the twin brothers:
“Two of the same?”
They both chimed, “Better make it a double.”
A couple of hours later, after a few drinks and reluctantly listening to a long-time patron sobbing while ‘Your Cheatin’ Heart’ drifted depressingly amidst the cigarette smoke, the boys could sense the loneliness and heartache that nestled seemingly aimless in her memories, and a cry almost in sync with the chorus, lingered so sorrowful, it was nearly to the point where the brothers could feel themselves being drawn into this pretentious nostalgic escapade. Until a passerby, stopping in for a quick drink, changed the tune to something a little more upbeat and refreshing. The brothers, glancing at the old lady who was wiping away her tears with a well-used, snotty handkerchief, then at each other, sighed in relief. The old lady stuffed her wet hankie into her purse and nodded with one finger in the air at Mable to bring her another drink. She lit a cigarette, took a deep drag and blew the smoke upward to the yellow-stained ceiling. She glanced discreetly around the room to see if anyone bought her routine. No one gave a shit.
Jimmy took one last sip, nodded at Jerry, and walked out the door.
Jerry closed his eyes before inhaling deeply; ‘Aahh, fresh air,’ he whispered. He fumbled around in his coat pocket fishing around for his cigarettes, lit one and again, inhaled deeply and glanced at his watch; it was 9 o’clock. Just as he took another drag, a Lincoln, a huge four door pulled up neatly to the curb. The driver stepped out, adjusted his white gloves and gingerly opened the back door. Freddie Jones, a huge figure with an equally huge, bulbous nose slid off the seat and stretched his frame out as he stood on the sidewalk. Jerry studied his face, his features for a moment before extending his hand in greeting. Freddie brushed his hand aside and growled: “Ya’ ready?”
Jerry meekly nodded his head and feebly croaked a rather pitiful sounding “Ye-yeah.”
“C’mon, let’s go.”
The two walked into the bar, past the dinginess of the age-old interior and dull stench of cigarette butts and stale beer and entered a back room that felt almost like a breath of fresh air. Jerry scanned the area, his eyes slowly adjusted to the florescent lights hanging directly over a table situated prominently in the middle of the room. A large half-circle behemoth with a dark-green velvet cloth covering the top with plush, comfortable chairs was what he noticed.
“Ya want somethin’ to drink?” bellowed Freddie.
Aaahh, yeah, sure,” rasped Jerry. “I’ll have a beer.”
In no time, the room began to fill. Jerry recognized Louisiana Louie, Pigeon-toed Peter, Slick-foot Sam, Cool Hand Larry and Chatterbox Sue as they took their places at the table.
“Well, Sue,” called Freddie, looking at the deck in his hands. “Name yer poison.”
“Texas Hold’em Fredrick,” she responded rather demurely. She was the only one everyone in the room, and on the circuit, who could call him that. Freddie responded quickly. “Now, now Sue, I ain’t buyin’ none of that sweet-talk tonight. I hope yer purse don’t squeak like one of those rusty ol’ vaults at yer house.”
“Aaahh, quit your bellyaching and let’s get this show rollin’ now, will ya’,” said Sue, her sexy voice chilled.
“Now, ya all ready,” shouted Freddie and watched as they nodded their heads in agreement. “Let’s go then.”
Those first few hours were unassuming. As each hour approached, Freddie rang his bell and a waiter came in to take their orders. Play continued as the waiter carefully placed each order by the players before leaving. It wasn’t very long into the game when Jerry’s losing streak became apparent. He called for a 15-minute break.
He went to the washroom where he exchanged places with Jimmy, the waiter, who mentioned Freddie was cheating. He then slipped a few aces in his sleeve and returned.
Jimmy cleaned up that night. Freddie was furious and vowed to get even. When the card players left, the twins bought the crying woman a beer and listened while she mournfully sang Your Cheatin’ Heart, belting from the dusty jukebox…
GLENDA:Living through turmoil, whether from nature or man-made, brings out the deep resolve in many going through these unfortunate circumstances. Your story captured many details many are unaware of from personal levels, and the way you intertwined the spiritual with the actual gave your writing a deeper understanding of lives enduring turmoil with hope and the promises of a better tomorrow…Wonderfully written, Glenda…
TERRY:
Terry, your story is filled with so much imagery. No matter the physical size of anyone, the heart plays a huge role in victory — with a little magical help. I enjoyed too the view from the back of the dragon, and smiling at the return of the fireballs. Your story very much plays into the imagery of sorcerers and how magic, if used for goodness, brings peace to a people and their environments…very well-written, Terry…
Mod
“What’s that ya’ got in yer hands?” questioned Jimmy, staring at his bother...."
Your story brought back memories when I use to listen to country music - how sad it use to be. And your story ended quite well with Your Cheatin' Heart being played (as in cheaters of the card game.) My dad use to play the guitar and sing that song. It was more comical than entertaining.
Thank you Glenda…I had an ending that was a bit more detailed thinking that I had 1200 words, but I’m glad you liked it…and lol on your dad’s guitar playing…I really enjoyed your story Glenda and your references throughout…
Mod
Hi Everyone,Tom, I ditto Glenda's And your story ended quite well with Your Cheatin' Heart being played (as in cheaters of the card game.)
Thank you for submitting on the 22nd.
Best,
David
Thank you David…I apologize for the lateness but I really enjoy the platform for us all to share with everyone…Glenda, I have the same thoughts and wishes to be as gifted as you all…it is a pleasure to be associated with such talent and imagination as our group.
Hello Everyone,As of this writing, there is about 11 hours and 20 minutes remaining before the story deadline arrives for the March 2022 theme.
As we currently have three stories by Glenda, Terry, and Tom, I propose that voting not occur this month.
I had suggested previous that a minimum of five stories would make voting more realistic as choice would vary.
Thus as of this writing, I am bowing out as your host but thank you for your time, and consideration.
All the best,
David Russell
Thank you David and Glenda...The opportunity to share is why I chose this group...maybe, this was a bad month for the other writers. I am still hopeful for next month. I acknowledge you David, and give you much credit for your time...
Hi Tom and everyone,Thanks for the comment, story and acknowledgement to both myself and Glenda. I am reminded that it was this group where I jumped into writing fiction. The process of learning is ongoing, thankfully.
I have found feedback to be essential and have found means to make that happen. Editing tools like Hemingway or ProWritingAid are good placesd to start, and things to implement from time to time. One learns what factors are important to making a good story from these tools.
One tip that has been most helpful, is a definition for story that I picked up from a podcast.
"A story is a problem to be solved."
Happy Spring and Writing,
David
Set Apart from Church by F. F. Burwick 989 wordsAfter investing so much of their lives in the church, Marty and Fiona were expelled from it and cut off from all ties with everyone there. They were not engaging in what they could see as sinful behavior, or being permissive of an appearance of sinfulness, but those in their church had judged them according to the church standards anyway, and because of their political leaning which had come out, those of the church could not tolerate them.
Now on the day of worship they were stuck at home, not having the church they wanted to go to, because they would not be accepted there and would be turned away, and not knowing any other church that it would be alright for them to go to.
Fiona said, "What are we going to do, just stay here at home doing nothing? We should be worshiping God with others. But who do we know?"
Marty said, "We tried to talk of God at the activist meetings with those few others there who happened to listen to us, we could contact them and invite them to fellowship meetings with us."
Fiona said, "Our meetings with such others are why we are expelled from our church. Do you really think it would be good to continue meeting with any of them when our meeting with them is why we lost our church?"
Marty said, "It is over anyway. The church won't have anything to do with us anymore, we both heard that from them. We know it is not sin but it is the way we know God would want to work towards. We should continue with it, the church won't matter to us anymore, but we can still bring some of those in the meetings to God. We can let them know we would like them at our fellowship meetings, which we could have here, and if God is in this like we understand God is, we will see some interest for this from any one or a few that seemed interested in our talk of God at the meetings."
Fiona agreed, so a little later that day Mart reached one of those who they talked to at the meetings about God, and showed interest. "Bobby, we are trying to start fellowship meetings at our home, where we can try answering any questions, and go over passages we know for those. If you are interested, is this day of the week any good for you?"
Bobby let him know either day of the weekend, in the afternoon, would work for that, and so they set a tentative time for meeting in a fellowship. Marty got the contact information of another of those at the meetings. Paul hesitated, telling Marty, "You know I don't really believe that, now. I am just listening to you because I see you have good points for that, and I want to consider it carefully."
Marty answered him, "So far it is Fiona and I, and Bobby who already agreed to meet this next weekend. It is not meeting with others who are all already believers, it will just be Fiona and I, sharing more about what we can say, that may provide answers. We won't pressure you but we will share ways for drawing closer to God, which you can do on your own terms, not ours, whenever you are ready."
Sally from the meetings also agreed to come, at that time. Just a few told Marty and Fiona that they would not come to that. And they did not invite any at the meetings that showed no interest in their discussion with others about God.
That next weekend at the appointed time Bobby, Paul, and Sally all met with Marty and Fiona at their home, sitting around a low table with small finger foods in one room together, and Marty said a small prayer. He spoke then to start things off.
"You know, as we do, that there is nothing wrong with our pursuit, this world needs that and it is the direction we say God wants. God does not discriminate and hate some who are not like us enough. God is the Creator, we are made by God and it is in our own interest to acknowledge our Maker who is why we are here. All our purpose we were really meant to have is from God, who grants that we can serve that, and as long as we would be doing so, God would have us to be here. These pursuits that we want involvement in will be a part of that. I want us to know that as we will still see how to seek God's way and respond to God when God reveals things to us."
Through the course of this starting fellowship Marty spoke of the convincing things of God's work, that were not easily refuted well. And he told them God's care and provision are there for those God makes. And so whether we feel like it or not it is always in our interest to pray speaking to God and seeking God's help where needed, and listen for things God would reveal to us in our lives.
Marty and Fiona were both pleased that Bobby and Paul both responded with belief wanting to pray to speak with God. The fellowship with them would continue, each week. Even Sally said she would still come back. Of course Marty and Fiona would still see them at the activist meetings.
Marty and Fiona both concluded that a church such as theirs that excludes any on bases such as what their activism, political leanings, or any mere appearance are, rather than their faith that is expressed, is certainly wrong, and it is not well to continue with such who are that exclusive. With this they were starting an outreach, where any more who would come would not be excluded from their fellowship.
Mod
After investing so much of their lives in the church, Marty and Fiona were expelled from it ..."
Fred, I was pleasantly surprised on the topic that you wrote about. And I have to agree with your summation in your last paragraph: anything that takes the place of true worship of God is wrong in a church gathering. Good story with a good ending.
F. F. Burwick:To be expelled from a place of belief sets the tone in your story right away, You bring up a very interesting topic of Church versus State/politics, and of some of the inner ways people deal with this. Your characters show their resolve in the effort to continue on with their beliefs without making it look like they are in competition with the very church that expelled them.
Your story concluded with the fellowship of open doors. Wonderfully written F. F….
For where two or three are gathered together in my name (Jesus), there am I in the midst of them. Matthew 18:20
F.F. wrote: "Set Apart from Church by F. F. Burwick 989 words
After investing so much of their lives in the church, Marty and Fiona were expelled from it and cut off from all ties with everyone there. They wer..."
F.F. wrote: "Set Apart from Church by F. F. Burwick 989 words
After investing so much of their lives in the church, Marty and Fiona were expelled from it and cut off from all ties with everyone there. They wer..."
Tom, very descriptive. I like your "show" not "tell". You have a grip on the vernacular.
Tom wrote: "THE SWITCH
“What’s that ya’ got in yer hands?” questioned Jimmy, staring at his bother.
“You should know. You can sense it. I know you can. Now tell me,” demanded Jerry.
“Aaahh, it’s a quarter..."
Tom wrote: "THE SWITCH
“What’s that ya’ got in yer hands?” questioned Jimmy, staring at his bother.
“You should know. You can sense it. I know you can. Now tell me,” demanded Jerry.
“Aaahh, it’s a quarter..."
Glenda, just getting around to reading the posted stories. I know your story is from the heart because you have and are living through it all. Very well written.
Glenda wrote: "The Shadow of the Almighty (794 words)
We consider ourselves survivors. After all, who can say that they literally stood, bracing their weight against a glass patio door against the winds of the c..."
Glenda wrote: "The Shadow of the Almighty (794 words)
We consider ourselves survivors. After all, who can say that they literally stood, bracing their weight against a glass patio door against the winds of the c..."
Mod
Thank you, David for hosting March. It was my pleasure to participate & read the stories.
Thank you Terry…it was a fun write and I’m looking forward to April’s challenge from Glenda…have a wonderful day okay…
Missed the deadline on this one, sorry. I will try to vote on your stories though
Hello Everyone,I just sent a quick reply to Arthur who sent me his vote, and informed him I suspended voting but encourage comments since we have four stories. I am sticking to my convictions.
F.F. Burwick, good story from the standpoint of those who leave a church for specific reasons, which vary widely. I think you captured the intention in your main characters quite well.
Best,
David Russell
Sad that the contest is cancelled for lack of just one more story when I failed to enter in time. If it helps ressurect the chances for everyone, this is the 766 word story I would have submitted - written just this afternoon. The Lion And The Lamb
New management, new name and new pub sign, never a great time for any pub.
There had been no warning that Preston, Lancashire’s The March Hare was about to become The Rampant Lion, changing from free house to tied bar. With no advance notice or chance for a final wake in the Match Hare before it closed, enabling customers to thank the staff and say farewell to old friends while reminiscing on their happy nights in there, it was suddenly bought out and chained to the Ale To ZZZZ’s Pubco conglomerate.
After a few weeks closure for a refurb, the bar re-opened with its real fire-place stripped out, drab blue carpeting fitted, the leather upholstery replaced with tall plastic chairs, its decent food menu replaced with expensive tapas dishes (Lunchtime only), the pub was no longer dog friendly, and there was going to be karaoke twice a week. For the old regulars it was downright apocalyptic.
The darts trophies had been removed, along with photos of Alf Irons proudly standing riverside with his prize winning carp, caught in the Metlock on an angling club expedition.
None of the old familiar and much loved staff had been kept on.
The tall new forced smile practiced in a mirror manager, (“no, I’m not a Landlord”), Jeremy Wellcrome, seemed pleasant but patronizing. “Yes, our beers are a little more limited in choice, and more expensive but you were not all buying every ale on offer when you had the option to do so, were you? And ‘free house’ never meant ‘free beer’ did it? He then guffawed in a way that made one customer mumble that Wellcrome ought to have called the pub ‘The Cackling Jackass’.
Unfortunately, while he wore thick horn-rimmed glasses and still strained his bulbous eyes to read the till buttons, the ‘manager’ had superb hearing and the cynical customer was the first of many barred on the spot before he’d even been served his first pint. Several customers went with him in solidarity. Wellcome didn’t seem to care. In fact, his job was to run the pub into the ground, enabling the brewery to close it as a warning to other bars it owned to tow the company line or face the same fate. He taunted the defectors with assertions that pubs today are for young trendy cocktail guzzling yuppies, not antiquated domino playing real ale fanatics and coffin dodgers.
As Wellcrom’s beer was all fizzy keg, bottled or canned, anything unsold would go to the Ale To ZZZZ’s brewery’s other assets as it referred to its cloned pubs throughout the franchise.
The punters in exile looked up at the Lion’s inn sign. They’d loved the old March Hare painting that avoided the usual actual March Hare romping round the English countryside and depiction of Alice In Wonderland companion to The Mad Hatter for a Hare or rabbit in military uniform, with its ears poking through its helmet. Now the sign presented a hurriedly, crassly painted semi-heraldic golden lion with front paws raised menacingly and its tongue sticking out.
Old Metcalfe, the very man who’s comment had got the Crumblies (as the group affectionately referred to themselves in their encroaching dotage), knew a thing or two. He pointed to the sign. “Even their heraldry’s bollocks. They’ve painted Or on Argent. While his wife groaned ‘oh not again Netty’the others asked what he was on about.
Metty pointed out that in heraldry you don’t paint Gold, or Or on Silver, or Argent. The sign was as cheap and nasty as Wellcrome’s welcome night.
The Crumblies walked a few hundred yards down, past at least six shops and a croft that used to be terrific boozers, until they reached The Lamb Inn, (with an image depicting a freshly born lamb with its proud mother, watched by a smiling shepherd and a Border Collie Sheep Dog.
“Hope they still sell Dobber’s Pretty Porter,” one of the chaps said, as the group entered their new home away from home. “Out from The Lion, into The Lamb’, said Metty, inspired by the old saying, as he offered to buy the first round. They got a cheery welcome, a nice table, and felt right at home immediately.
Within barely a month, The Lion was boarded up, and on its way to becoming a Vaping Accessories shop. Wellcroft awaited instruction as to which pub to destroy next. He didn’t have long to wait for his instructions from head office - The Lamb Inn, addressed as quite near the one he’d just finished off. His smile as he read the correspondence was briefly genuine.
Arthur Chappell
Mod
Although I'm not a frequent visitor to any bar, I've watched enough Bar Rescue episodes to throw up flags when a bar goes through a renovation and name change. It is usually all for the better. The beer keg has to be kept at a certain degree to not be fizzy. Old memorabilia is kept and presented in style. That would really be sad for the doors to close on a business if poor decisions were made during renovation. Most of the time people's lives are effected: they go further into debt or maybe it could even effect a marriage if the owners were both husband and wife.
Arthur, I hope that you post a story in time for the April's challenge. I posted it already. https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
The US bar situation may be different than the UK, we lose about 100 pubs a month here - thanks for your feedback and details of the April contest
Arthur, thank you for your submission. Your story brought back memories of those drinking days in favourite establishments, and time when change actually did occur. And yes, mostly not for the better. Overall, your story seems to be about change -- changes to the familiar and of the expectations to follow suit, however, not all changes are necessarily what we think they are. I really enjoyed your story and look forward to reading more of your contributions down the road....excellent story Arthur...
Theme: In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb
This theme is based on the adage attributed to the month of March and is traced to ancestral beliefs concerning balance.
Writing Prompts: a life crisis, a business venture, i.e. profit vs loss or other. Consider your plot to be a personal crisis by your character, a business venture gone awry and then straightening out or vice versa; or, choose one a situation to your making.
Setting – Any
Plot – your choice
Length: 750 to 1,000 Words
Deadline: Friday, March 25, 2022.
**Voting: Please send your votes for 1st, 2nd & 3rd place stories to david.sonofhashem@gmail.com with "Writers750 Votes" as the subject.**
Voting will take place between March 26, 2022 to March 31st. Winners will be posted in this thread on April 1st.
Challenge Guidelines – Skip over this comment section if you are familiar with the Writers 750 Challenge.
Genre: Fantasy, Thriller, Sci-Fi, Mystery, Crime, Comedy, Romance, or a mixture (BASICALLY, anything but erotica)
Purpose -
Some fiction writers are looking to win a short story contest, keeping in touch with making deadlines, and/or simply sharpening the skill of writing fiction. The main purpose of this contest is to sharpen plot and character skills, collect your own short stories, receive good feedback, make a good connection with other writers, and take a short break from your current novel to get a fresh view when you return to it.
Rules and Directions -
* Type in English - a minimum of 750 words; a maximum of 1,000 words; no erotica, no profanity.
* Post your title, by line, and word count total in the first line of your story posting.
* Writers are responsible for their own copyright. Authors keep all rights. PRIVACY POLICY IS ENFORCED. COPYRIGHTS AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS BELONG TO INDIVIDUAL AUTHORS. THIS CONTEST DOES NOT GRANT ANY PERSON THE RIGHT OR LICENSE TO COPY OR USE OTHER STORIES. EACH STORY IS PROTECTED BY THE COPYRIGHT OF THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR.
* ONE entry per person, must be writer's original work, a final revision, and a new piece of writing. Please do not delete and repost since this becomes confusing to the readers. Try to post your final revision.
Judging: The story will be judged on creativity, proper grammar, good punctuation, and overall good quality for story.
Voting: Please vote for first, second, and third place. You are not allowed to vote for yourself. If posting this month, you MUST vote for your story to remain eligible