cathyallheart

Sorry, I copy and pasted before I made sure that I had all the words

Mother took my adventure to mean it was safe to travel through spring storms.
“I thought the point of the story was that you SHOULDN’T travel through storms,” I remark. I haven’t told anyone that I promised to return, if I did then Mother would insist on going. As it is it’s already bad enough.

“I think Ruby is right, Louisa,” Aunt Eliza says. “How would you know if you passed the castle?” The castle is what we all have started calling it. I brush my red hair.

“We’ll be fine,” she declares, “The weather should be better.” I stare at her, a bell ringing in my head. Has she forgotten what a storm could do?

“That was what Dad said, before he died,” I whisper. No one knows about the dreams, I’ve always been too scared to tell them.

Mother got her way. As we are leaving the city, the sky begins to darken. “We’ll be almost there, Ruby” she says. I just shake my head.

Once again the storm was blinding. Heads down to stop ourselves from tripping. “No,” I whisper. The street was blocked by an iron gate. “Not this time!” As mother walks into the garden.

morshy

“Our time together in the garden is almost at an end: The weather is closing in. Well may you ask for whom the bell tolls. I cannot answer. But I can say, with conviction, that the path you follow, be it the road less travelled, or the street on which you live, will lead you to your destination.” The guru bowed his head in silent contemplation, and his followers did likewise. He studied them through his fringe, the greasy hair hanging low and hiding his scrutiny. Then, with a glint in his eye and smile hidden by a straggly beard, he proclaimed: “Now, you crazy kids, drink the Kool-Aid. Let’s party!”

Qsilv

Well I done tole 'em I couldn't pay naught but a warm place to sleep back there in the herb dryin' shed and a daily bowl o' soup, but one ol' gent said he'd do it and I gotta admit the crops are comin up high now. None o' them pesky deer nor t'neighbor's goats nor m'own sheep has stolen more'n I kin afford to lose since he came here. I's a mite embarrassed like, t'be payin' so little, but he just laughed. Said he's happpy t'be doin' it. Said it's t'easiest job he's ever had.
Said sure's a treat guardin' thyme with a bell wether!

midnightpoet

Well, well, well... Look who's strollin' up the street now. Lovely weather for a dramatic return.

Whether you've missed her or not, Poet is back, with a bell ringing in her head. It's time to start writing.

Hope you don't mind me plucking some thyme out of my garden and spicing things up. It's good to be back.

midnightpoet

And after my little bit of silliness, I actually went back and read this whole thread. Boy, have I missed you all! Good to see familiar faces (or names...), and new ones as well. Wonderful stories and poems, all! Particularly Cathy - Can't wait to read more.

midnightpoet

And now something more serious...

-----------

The Street

Out my window is an empty street.

I remember when it was full of life. I remember laughter and dancing. There was hardly a car to be seen; here everyone walked...skipped. The streets were full of colors and friendships. Bare-footed children holding the hands of parents or grandparents or great-grandparents. Teenagers in love or lust, fingers intertwined as they strolled. Ladies with baskets of fruit and young men carrying guitars. All ages, all colors, all types – no matter what the weather – filled the street together...found joy together.

The day the bell sounded – a harsh clang that shook the windows of the shops – the street fell silent. Time froze. Years passed in heartbeats. A child screamed.

The street hasn't been full since then. Seldom do I see a soul plodding down the broken sidewalks. What was once a garden of wildflowers is now an abandoned, burnt-out field.

Nylecoj

The scent of thyme filled Belle's nostrils as the wind rustled across the garden where time seemed to stand still. Looking up, she wondered whether the weather would stay fine, or if rain would empty the streats of people again. The bells tolled the hour, and she reluctantly went on.

marg

soooo sorry for the delay - I'll get back to this asap and try 'n push Qsilv into getting ThinkWrite underway again..

Hazer

The evening could not be more perfect as I wait expectantly on the weathered garden bench, tucked away from the prying eyes of those passing on the street. I listen to the familiar chimes coming from the bell tower in the distant town square and as their music fades, I see him. He comes toward me, arms outstretched, smiling, his blue eyes sparkle with promise as I run to meet him. But this time, when I reach for him, he disappears, and I awaken. I am crushed. I will myself to fall asleep and dream again, but to no avail. Perhaps tomorrow we will meet again.....

mum23

Ten days. Can it really only be ten days?

Time… life… has become a blur. I’m still numbed by the sense of unreality, of disbelief, that engulfed me as we piled my luggage into the car, drove out of your garden and down the street, past the tall white bell tower of the church we’d walked past so often during the last month, by the overwhelming pain as we clung to our last glimpses of each other and as I sat in the plane, unable to bring myself to watch your world disappear through the haze of tears as I flew away from you, from us, from myself; not knowing whether or when we'd be together again.

Only ten days.

marg

oh wow.. is there no end to the talent of TDers ?

.. Friday - I promise .. but what a terrific set of contributions ! .. keep 'em coming..

cathyallheart

part five

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be here, I thought as we follow the street, into the rose-garden. It was that Mother was with me and she was not one of the most gracious people. My neck is tingling, almost numb, our host is watching.

Mother turns head side to side looking at everything. “So this is the castle,” she says as we approach the door. I cringe, did she have to say that? Did she not realize that we were being watched? “How do we get in?” she asks me.

“The same way we got in the gate,” I reply, knocking. On the third knock the door open. As I step in I go numb this time too. I notice Mother shivering as she steps inside. “Thank you, for letting us enter,” I say like before.

Mother on the other hand jumps at the sound of the door shutting, and turns around. For a second I considered whether or not it would be good manners to roll my eyes at her.

“Ruby?” she says.

“Did you really expect to see our host?” I asked her as I walk down the hallway, a bell ringing softly in the distance.

Hazer

Okay, okay! I'll allow that I was somewhat responsible, but it wasn't entirely my fault. But that's not the way the Missus sees it, is it? According to her, I practically put her precious Mittens into that dogs mouth myself! Not that the thought hadn't crossed my mind. But this time I can honestly say I had an alibi.
No, really! I was in the garden all along! I swear! I was fertilizing the roses, so to speak, when I heard a commotion coming from the street. By the time I got on the scene, well, there was Mittens collar with it's little gold bell hanging from that Great Dane's left tooth.
Well, the Missus was fit to be tied, cryin and carrying on something fierce and it took ole Harry here a while to calm her down and point out that there seemed to be no sign of blood and if the Dane had eaten her cat why would he still be barkin up that tree?
Good point, I know. And whether Mittens was still in that collar when it ended up hangin off that tooth we may never know, but one thing ole Harry knows for sure is that loose collar saved his hide just as surely as it saved the cats! And once we get the cat down outta that tree ole Harry might even enjoy a bit o' hero status. Now wouldn't that be a switch!

marg

Well.. errrhhmmm .. late Friday it is then..

I've got to say I'm staggered by the contributions, so let's review them:

First up, the (interim) challenge was kicked off by chelydra - and I mean 'kicked' - with his tongue-in-cheek (my apologies), luncheon-munching, ExAustEd Society poem - and I fell about - but was seriously concerned about the slime ?

Cathyallheart fortunately rescued us from dwelling too long on the grammatical horrors that chel had perpetrated (after a long lunch, no doubt ] .. [for whoms ?].. and led us straight into a scene which we could all see clearly - but was probably different for everyone ?

I'm sure I can see the dark old house [mansion] and the street and the path.. but I'm betting that everyone else sees something slightly different, but just as clear. It's a bit like in a dream, when you feel things happening to you quite sharply, but minor effects like paths just meld and change... and I'm wondering whether this is the sign of a true writer ?

ladyhwin then casually offered a 'tidbit' that just stopped everyone and everything to watch this beautiful girl walking silently along a street to a path in a garden - 193 words in a single, captivating sentence.. what awesome power !

five then 'chimed' in, with a brilliantly succinct (sorry, used that before, but it's SO true) 9-word entry that seriously made me start to twitch, as it just hit every nerve in my 'got to go to work' system..

and then morshy.. LOL, I don't know if anyone has ever read 'Even cowgirls get the blues', but that's the guru I was reminded of [umm.. but only because of the standard guru greasy hair, etc.] .. but I especially liked the 'or the street on which you live' - seemed like there's something for everyone in that ! - seriously, morshy, I thought it was brilliant - and the Kool-Aid creased me up

Then, well... Qsilv's entry.. umm, I'd love to say how great it was, but I've spent I don't know how long trying to find the significance of 'guardin' thyme with a bell wether' .. please, anyone who knows what it means or what it's alluding to, please, please tell me ? I'm feeling seriously disadvantaged (as many TDers are every day) by the lack of knowledge of some American or English idioms and sayings.

Then in strolls ole' midnightpoet.. and time stands still, again, while we look out of the window and see the street filled with the ghosts of the joy-filled past.. it is just so awesome to see you back, midnight, and the poet back in full flow - 'The streets were full of colors and friendships.' - surely that's ThinkDraw

Nylecoj than casually threw a sweet, moment-in-time snapshot of Belle into the challenge.. you can see, smell, hear and feel what's happening - how good is that ?!

Then Hazer takes us into her dream, except it's much too real to be just a dream.. you know what it's like to wait in expectation and then you see the dream result.. and then the dream is crushed. Surely, surely, you should be able to will your mind to make your dreams end sweetly ?

.. and then mum23 backs up the loss .. and ten days turns into a tear-blurred numbness and a devastatingly bleak and unreal future life .. wonderfully written, but too close for comfort, mum.. I think a lot of us have looked out of plane windows with tear-blurred eyes..

.. so I quickly skip forward to Hazer's second entry.. and LOL, I swear I tried to do a picture of a Great Dane barking up a tree yesterday, but it just wouldn't come out right ! Go you Mittens .. absolutely brilliant, Hazer !

So .. I actually wanted to get Qsilv to declare the next challenger, but given the recent absenteeism (slackness) on Q's part, I'll work on ladywhin's comment and will pass the ThinkWrite baton back to cathyallheart !

It would have been awfully hard to pick my favourite out of the entries anyway, but cathy just knocked everyone sideways with her awesome contributions - - so cathy.. can you please start \the new (proper) CV challenge and also finish up your story in this thread ? I'll be reading it

Many thanks everyone - it's been a joy !

cathyallheart

Okay Marg I'll get to work making a new wordlist. This is part six, all I have at this point.

It was much the same as the time before. Candles led to the same room, with two setting instead of one. I woke at the sound of a bell. On the way out Mother strayed from the street, and into the rose-garden.

“Mother!” I cry, “Just because the weather is better today does not mean you can be in the yard.”

Mother plucks a rose from a bush. “Who is there to care?” she laughs, “It’s not like anyone is here.” I stare at her incredulity, after all she’s seen, and she still does THIS?

In the moment after Mother’s laugh, the temperature drops. One of the shadows grows, and forms a beast.

“You would laugh at my hospitably?” a voice growls, what was most terrifying was that the sound came from the ground.

“Oh,” Mother stutters, “I, wou-would never.” Her eyes wide, jumping.

“Oh, yes. You did,” the voice mocks. The shadow smiles at me, like the shadow could see through me—could see what I was trying to hide. It turns back to Mother. “One of your household will return in a month.” Mother nods.

The shadow watches us trembling away, one in fear, the other in laughter.