100 Words on Treasures
I give up…for now, on Mr. Linky. I haven’t the time to fuss with it, even though that time will save me tons of time in the future. Sigh. Just when I think I’ve attained some level of technical acumen, some simple program comes along and boggles my brain.
So now I’m just going to crank out and catch up. Two weeks ago the challenge was Treasures. What a powerfully packed word that is! Let’s see what my readers conjured up.
I’m beginning to think we may be witnessing the unfolding of a major writing talent in Night Blogger.
Oppression. It bears down, making fine trembles run up bare flesh in virulent waves of heat. Blankets lay heavy as she lies alone.
She’d been wrong.
It was a joke. Share a bed, leave with a number in the hope of future one-night stands.
Then the offer.
Before, she was a slave to menial family life. Now–she’s a worker with ambitions. A different mask for every day.
To escape becoming her mother, only to end up powerful but ultimately alone. To throw away the love she’d been offered only to realize in the end there is no greater treasure.
From one writer to the next, a common theme is shared. Family, love, love of family as a treasure. It makes you wonder why it is still a question in anyone’s mind. Here is Renee Daniel’s moving contribution.
The woman gently blows dust from the book as her daughter watched in quiet anticipation. They snuggled onto the couch and she slowly opened the cover, pointing to the first picture. “This is your Grandma.” The little girl sighs with awe “She was so pretty Mama.” The woman smiles pointing to the next “And that’s your Grandpa.” The little girl giggles. “He has hair!” They move through the book, each page a tribute to the long happy life. The little girl stands admiring the other binders lining the shelf. “Are these more treasures?” The mother nodded, tears in her eyes.
I’m so tickled to have Sandy from Momisodes joining us. With this piece she challenges us to guess…Fact or Fiction. Head over there to tell her what you think.
Every day she carries them with her. Intricate details of him covered in a fine layer of dust. Familiarities in a passing stranger begin to tug gently. Uncovering the slight nuances time had obscured.
A heavy, left-handed snap of his finger to a tune; a quick side-glance while holding back a crooked smile; brilliant half moons at the base of bitten nails.
Stunned. The moments catch her off guard. Each memory flickers, stealing a breath. Her plexus slow as her mind struggles for clarity. She remembers. All the secret treasures they shared. Safe. Where no one else can find them.
In the world of blogging there’s a first time for everything. Lessa, who joined by following JM here, posted a fun piece but her blog didn’t allow me to cut and paste! So here’s the link: http://snippets.gonfalon.org/?p=12 If you haven’t visited her already, please do!
JM at Fiction Scribe takes us further into the character of Frank Talbert with this piece.
Frank Talbert didn’t have much to live for. He’d lost his dog to his ex-wife, his ex-wife to the solicitor for her mother’s estate, his house to the solicitor, and his three fish died two months ago of natural causes.
He contemplated this as he rode the train home and ended up nearly missing his stop. Hurrying out the door, he crashed into a woman who had stopped just outside to look in her purse.
“Sorry! I, uh, let me help… I - ”
She smiled at him, dusting herself off, and then held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Treasure.”
I actually just recently met a woman named Treasure myself. Really. The Wandering Author gave my heart a squeeze with this one, particularly since my own precious kitty, who I thought was better started coughing alarmingly again tonight. It really scares me because we really really don’t have the money to bring her to the vet. Wonderful warm sentient beings cats are. Thanks Wandering Author for reminding us.
Treasures
Stacked banknotes,
Stock certificates,
Bonds.
Paper reminders,
Promises easily broken.
Elusive, illusory wealth.Finely-wrought gold,
Diamonds blazing purest fire,
Carven jewels,
Rubies, emeralds, sapphires.
Ivory graved in darkest ink.
Oddly stamped coins,
Heaps of silver,
Mounds of gold.
Ancient statues,
Clay vessels
Shaped by artisans long dead.
Bits of rare jade.
Solid, enticing.
Treasure.Words,
Scribed, printed
Engrossed.
Meaning traced
On paper or parchment,
Bound, captured,
Shelved, available.
Storehouse beyond measure
Brimming,
Wisdom, imagination, thought.
Priceless heritage.Curled shapes,
Furry flanks,
Whiskered muzzles,
Wide bright eyes
Glowing mischief, love.
Velvet paws,
Purring breaths,
Living cats.
More precious than everything.
Allison, a relatively new face around here, is having a lot of fun with the 100 Word Challenge. Great! Because that’s what this is about. Here’s her piece. It reminds me of a story I heard on This American Life (gawd I love Ira Glass and his almost annoying voice.).
Sitting quietly, she surveys everything she owns. The top of the box on her lap nearly falls off in her hand. She gingerly removes and sorts the box’s contents—these pictures here, those letters there. Of days gone past, only sepia pictures and yellowed papers are left. Some slip by unnoticed, mingling with the leaves when blown by the wind. In turn, a smile and a frown move across her streaked face. Finally, she holds two pictures and two envelopes from the bottom to her heart—her real treasures. Her body silently shakes as she curls under a tattered quilt.
Susan…oh Susan. Hehe.
Every time I try to write something for this week’s prompt, what I wind up with is too long. This is leading to the pleasant swelling of scenes I intend to post on this blog, treasures saved up for a day when inspiration runs low. But it’s also leading to the unpleasant problem of not having anything worthwhile this week. Since I took last week off, I really want to be able to play along this week, especially since I’ll be out of town for the next two weeks, which will make playing hard, as I’ll have no Net access…
I love love this one by Lceel.
How is it you should measure a man?
Do you measure him by his job? By the money he makes?
Do you measure him by his standing in society?
Or do you measure him by the things he has accumulated?
The trophy heads on the wall? The horsepower of his car?
Or is it maybe the cleft of his chin, the steeliness of his gaze?
Do you measure him by the length of his belt or the lack of hair on his head?
There’s a way to measure a man that won’t prove false.
Measure him by what he treasures.
Oh crud. The cafe I’m at is closing. Back tomorrow with the rest of the entries. And, to get your gears-a-grinding, this week’s word is
Fresh
It’s from the cafe menu.
With love, VV.
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Huh. That’s weird. It let me C/P it… here it is:
~~~~
We ain’t had what kids today do, what with the games an’ headphones an’ music blarin’ and thumbs a’tappin. We made due with sunshine, dirt, an’ the ghetto pond.
It weren’t much more ‘n a puddle t’splash ‘bout in, with a passel full a frogs t’catch. Days we was just too tired to go chasin’ frogs, Joe’d spend hours makin’ maps, telling me bout the treasures we’d find. That’s how we found the coins in the tree, you know.
Well, I suppose ya ain’t know yet, cuz I ain’t tole ya, but I’m a gettin’ there, in my own time.
~~~~
Feels like it came from the “what i remember..” story, hm?
Aha! I shall respond to this fresh Challenge with with Vigor. And Alacrity. (Ha! you didn’t think I knew that word, didja?)
I hope those are good sighs you’re sending when you talk about me… *grin*
I’ll be back with something fresh.
What ever happened to Pillar???
Hi Allison,
Just not done updating yet. Treasures came before Pillar so that is next.
Thanks for keeping me on my toes!
VV
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