Thank you for the great op to just write!! so much fun.
Gefjun
The woman sighed looking at the bullocks in front of her, endlessly pulling the plough to nowhere. She too was stuck, frozen in motion, the view to her right never changing and the squawking voices of the parade of tourists rattling in her ears often out of view to the left.
How had this happened, she wondered for the millionth time? How had she been convinced by some hansom, big-moustachio'd, sharp-eyed artisan to be the model for a Goddess in a fountain? That was it, she recognized - again. Goddess. Myths and legends. What was not to fall for?
The bullocks didn't care, they were happy stuck in place pulling nothing. She, on the other hand, wanted to be free! What is the point of being a Goddess if you're stuck in place, with no say over your future?
She had heard there was a group of 'Women Against Iconography'. She took that to mean, overhearing some heated discussions at the foot of her fountain, that when women are put on pedestals, even in honor, it diminishes them. Setting them above human aspiration and feelings, means they are in danger of falling into disrepute.
Furthermore, those statues of old, continue to affect women today as men long for the good old days - whores, mothers or goddesses. Wishing she could drop the whip, sit down and maybe even have a nap, the Geflin/Goddess/Model was pulled from her usual hopeless reverie by the noise of raucous shouting and a rattling truck - or was it - was it?
Unable to turn her head she could only hope and sure enough rumbling in on her right, a massive military fighting vehicle with turrets and all. It stopped and out popped 3 fierce looking Danish women. Harking back to their Nordic roots these modern Valkyries had nothing to lose in the fight for female equality.
Shouting their slogan 'Valkyries Forever' they aimed the long-nosed fat gun directly at the fountain with the Goddess and bullocks. A whistling sound careened toward her with a flash of light and smoke. The last thing she heard was 'Free The Women' as she shattered into a million free-flying pieces.
Kate, this was SO fun to imagine that the fountain was the goddess herself, tricked and trapped there! You did such a vivid job of capturing her long frustration that was also muted by so much time being frozen in place, as well as marrying past myth/legend with modern day. Thank you for writing and sharing!
I love that picture! And relate to Andrea a lot. I still want to live in a castle. I want a huge round tower that's a library with a spiral staircase.
Here's mine:
A Child's Wish
Isabella, Bella to her family and friends, can’t remember when she first became obsessed with the castle-esque old church. Maybe it was from all the walks her mother used to take her on, walking past the church almost daily. Also daily, her mother had to call her name or take her hand to get her to continue walking until she could no longer look back and see the church. Each time, she swore to her mother that she would get married in that church in the biggest, poofiest dress, and each time she mother smiled at her and told her “of course, Sweetie.”
Her love of the church was well-known among her peers. She had even done a school project on its history. In high school, her boyfriend set up a scavenger hunt for her that ended at the church with a prom-posal. Of course, she said yes. They even took prom pictures on the nearby bridge and Bella thinks it’s the best she’s ever looked – until today.
She’s standing at the back of the church, dressed in white, and even with all the pews between them, she can see the tears in her fiancé’s eyes. They match her own. Through the years, her vision of her perfect dress changed, less poofy, more fitted, more dramatic, less dramatic. The one constant was the church.
She’s still not sure how Aleister managed to get permission for them to have their ceremony at the church. When she’d inquired about it, the day after their engagement, she’d been told the church is no longer in use and therefore, unfortunately, her request had to be denied. She’s not sure if she even wants to know how he did it. It feels more magical for it to be a mystery, like it’s always been meant to be for her.
Ahhh, Trista, I love this one!! I got all teary, too. You never fail to give me happy chills with your short pieces here. Thank you for sharing this one!
I'm pretty much in a year round NaNo (NaNoWriYe), I'm either churning furiously or taking a very very brief break waiting for feedback from agent/CPs--and often during that time I'm working on another project. This is the life I've waited decades for and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Alma stands tears running down her cheeks waiting for the happy guests to exit the church. Why did she think it was a good idea to use the last of her savings for a flight to Copenhagen. Her reality was NY. Her dream was here. Her dream, not theirs.
She remembers last year as an exchange student how quickly she had fallen for Fredrick after he directed her to the library on her first week abroad. After that they had spent every day together exploring the city doing silly things like jumping on the street trampolines or more serious things like studying. She had imagined a life anywhere with him.
But on the eve of her departure, he had told her his girlfriend who was abroad in the U.S. that semester would be coming back and that would be the end of the road for them. “He was very sorry” he said and it looked like he meant it. “You are charming and fun and I didn’t want the spell to end” he says as if that would excuse his behavior. “I’ve known Luna since we were children and we will be married after graduation.”
And that is why she is here— to stop the what ifs, maybes, if onlys. Her fairy tale ended before even beginning but she has to see it with her own eyes. She shields her eyes as she sees newly weds exiting the church. She squints to see clearly and then opens her eyes wide.
Leona was proud of herself. Her parents had finally trusted her to take the cattle to the lord's manor herself. It was a mark of maturity, a trial of teen trust, a rite of passage. She herded the two beasts along the dusty road, her eyes on the manor spires just above the rise and across the stream. She'd never been inside, never met the lord, never been old enough, until now.
"Hail, maiden!" The call shook her from her thoughts. The dark-haired stranger leaned forward in his saddle, his expression said it was not the first time he'd tried to get her attention. His face was handsome, but his eyes were leering, and something about him drove in as many directions as the cow and bull she drove to market. Something about him called her toward him. Something about him repulsed her away. She felt both fear and fire, but she managed to only politely reply "Good day, sir."
"If you are headed for the manor, I would like to ride with you for the journey."
His clothes were of fine cloth, with accessories that only the rich and carefree could adorn. 'Twould be foolish to be rude to him, and part of her did not wish to be, anyway. "You may ride where you like, good sir, but the journey is not long."
He continued to engage her with conversation, to ask about her family and her self. She blushed when she caught him looking at her, and cursed herself for doing so. She was an important errand that would prove her maturity and value in the family. She had no time for idle dalliances, particularly with strange men of dark, curly hair, whose shoulders seemed at war with his shirt, and thighs denied any need of saddle astride the brown stud-
She blushed again at her own thoughts and chastised the cattle for their normal speed.
As they reached the stone bridge to the manor, she breathed a sigh of relief, this torturous man would finally part on his own errands, and leave her be.
"Maiden, I have tried to win your attention this entire ride, and yet you spurn me. Here we are now at the manor. Will you abandon the animals you drive and mount my horse for dinner and the evening?"
The hard hoofs of her cattle echoed on the stone bridge. The surely cool water passing below that she suddenly desperately wished to dive into. There was a flush of heat at her neck that neither began nor ended in her chest.
"Good sir, I am only just old enough to bring my family's beasts to market here at the lord's manor. You flatter me, but I must decline your offer." The heat in her bolstered her courage, and gave her reason to strike him back for making her feel this new way. "I will not spend this night, or any other with so bold a stranger whose fine clothes barely contain him!"
His stormy eyes turned dark. His arched eyebrows drew down. "You, girl, have the look of a spring filly, but a heart of stone. If you truly will not leave your animals to be with your lord, then I do hope you enjoy each other for a very long time."
His eyes flashed, and her body froze. She couldn't breathe. The cattle, too, had stopped moving. Her eyes could not leave the man as he rode into his manor. Her skirts hardened in the breeze from the stream, whipping about her trembling legs forever.
David! This was great; I was immersed immediately! I particularly enjoyed the line "something about him drove in as many directions as the cow and bull she drove to market," as well as your use of repetition and rhythm afterwards with more sentences that began with the word "Something." Thank you for sharing!
Thank you for the inspiration. Would you mind if I reposted these 5-minute writings from CIH on my own substack? I'll credit and recommend yours, of course.
Thanks for asking, David. I'm happy to have the creativity challenges spread farther. Can you please use the cross-post function when you share? Thank you!
I admire your skills with story setup and payoff, Evelyn!
Poll Q: Instead of writing new material for NANOWRIMO, I will bravely assess my stack of book and story manuscripts and make notes. Which will I edit? Set aside for later? Or burn in a ritual blaze of letting go? PS: Maybe a glitch with your poll? I'm a subscriber but couldn't respond.
haha I love your write-in poll answers! I will be very curious to hear how it ends up!
Not sure why you couldn’t answer in the actual poll, as it seems to have worked for others… technology is fickle! But you know, I enjoyed your answers quite a bit, so I’m glad that original poll didn’t work for you. 😆
Ralph, this is such a lovely blend of naval and fantastical styles! I really enjoyed it. Do you like military historicals? Have you read His Majesty's Dragon (the Napoleonic Wars but with dragons instead of ships)?
Thank you for the great op to just write!! so much fun.
Gefjun
The woman sighed looking at the bullocks in front of her, endlessly pulling the plough to nowhere. She too was stuck, frozen in motion, the view to her right never changing and the squawking voices of the parade of tourists rattling in her ears often out of view to the left.
How had this happened, she wondered for the millionth time? How had she been convinced by some hansom, big-moustachio'd, sharp-eyed artisan to be the model for a Goddess in a fountain? That was it, she recognized - again. Goddess. Myths and legends. What was not to fall for?
The bullocks didn't care, they were happy stuck in place pulling nothing. She, on the other hand, wanted to be free! What is the point of being a Goddess if you're stuck in place, with no say over your future?
She had heard there was a group of 'Women Against Iconography'. She took that to mean, overhearing some heated discussions at the foot of her fountain, that when women are put on pedestals, even in honor, it diminishes them. Setting them above human aspiration and feelings, means they are in danger of falling into disrepute.
Furthermore, those statues of old, continue to affect women today as men long for the good old days - whores, mothers or goddesses. Wishing she could drop the whip, sit down and maybe even have a nap, the Geflin/Goddess/Model was pulled from her usual hopeless reverie by the noise of raucous shouting and a rattling truck - or was it - was it?
Unable to turn her head she could only hope and sure enough rumbling in on her right, a massive military fighting vehicle with turrets and all. It stopped and out popped 3 fierce looking Danish women. Harking back to their Nordic roots these modern Valkyries had nothing to lose in the fight for female equality.
Shouting their slogan 'Valkyries Forever' they aimed the long-nosed fat gun directly at the fountain with the Goddess and bullocks. A whistling sound careened toward her with a flash of light and smoke. The last thing she heard was 'Free The Women' as she shattered into a million free-flying pieces.
Kate, this was SO fun to imagine that the fountain was the goddess herself, tricked and trapped there! You did such a vivid job of capturing her long frustration that was also muted by so much time being frozen in place, as well as marrying past myth/legend with modern day. Thank you for writing and sharing!
I love that picture! And relate to Andrea a lot. I still want to live in a castle. I want a huge round tower that's a library with a spiral staircase.
Here's mine:
A Child's Wish
Isabella, Bella to her family and friends, can’t remember when she first became obsessed with the castle-esque old church. Maybe it was from all the walks her mother used to take her on, walking past the church almost daily. Also daily, her mother had to call her name or take her hand to get her to continue walking until she could no longer look back and see the church. Each time, she swore to her mother that she would get married in that church in the biggest, poofiest dress, and each time she mother smiled at her and told her “of course, Sweetie.”
Her love of the church was well-known among her peers. She had even done a school project on its history. In high school, her boyfriend set up a scavenger hunt for her that ended at the church with a prom-posal. Of course, she said yes. They even took prom pictures on the nearby bridge and Bella thinks it’s the best she’s ever looked – until today.
She’s standing at the back of the church, dressed in white, and even with all the pews between them, she can see the tears in her fiancé’s eyes. They match her own. Through the years, her vision of her perfect dress changed, less poofy, more fitted, more dramatic, less dramatic. The one constant was the church.
She’s still not sure how Aleister managed to get permission for them to have their ceremony at the church. When she’d inquired about it, the day after their engagement, she’d been told the church is no longer in use and therefore, unfortunately, her request had to be denied. She’s not sure if she even wants to know how he did it. It feels more magical for it to be a mystery, like it’s always been meant to be for her.
Ahhh, Trista, I love this one!! I got all teary, too. You never fail to give me happy chills with your short pieces here. Thank you for sharing this one!
❤️ Thank you so much. I always look forward to seeing what challenge you’re going to put out each month.
Doing a personal writing challenge.
I'm pretty much in a year round NaNo (NaNoWriYe), I'm either churning furiously or taking a very very brief break waiting for feedback from agent/CPs--and often during that time I'm working on another project. This is the life I've waited decades for and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Your last line is the best, Sophia!! And I'm so happy you're in love with it all.
Here is my burst of inspiration
Alma stands tears running down her cheeks waiting for the happy guests to exit the church. Why did she think it was a good idea to use the last of her savings for a flight to Copenhagen. Her reality was NY. Her dream was here. Her dream, not theirs.
She remembers last year as an exchange student how quickly she had fallen for Fredrick after he directed her to the library on her first week abroad. After that they had spent every day together exploring the city doing silly things like jumping on the street trampolines or more serious things like studying. She had imagined a life anywhere with him.
But on the eve of her departure, he had told her his girlfriend who was abroad in the U.S. that semester would be coming back and that would be the end of the road for them. “He was very sorry” he said and it looked like he meant it. “You are charming and fun and I didn’t want the spell to end” he says as if that would excuse his behavior. “I’ve known Luna since we were children and we will be married after graduation.”
And that is why she is here— to stop the what ifs, maybes, if onlys. Her fairy tale ended before even beginning but she has to see it with her own eyes. She shields her eyes as she sees newly weds exiting the church. She squints to see clearly and then opens her eyes wide.
Oh wow, Ines. I didn't expect that twist. I love how you packed so much character history and emotion in such a short space!
Leona was proud of herself. Her parents had finally trusted her to take the cattle to the lord's manor herself. It was a mark of maturity, a trial of teen trust, a rite of passage. She herded the two beasts along the dusty road, her eyes on the manor spires just above the rise and across the stream. She'd never been inside, never met the lord, never been old enough, until now.
"Hail, maiden!" The call shook her from her thoughts. The dark-haired stranger leaned forward in his saddle, his expression said it was not the first time he'd tried to get her attention. His face was handsome, but his eyes were leering, and something about him drove in as many directions as the cow and bull she drove to market. Something about him called her toward him. Something about him repulsed her away. She felt both fear and fire, but she managed to only politely reply "Good day, sir."
"If you are headed for the manor, I would like to ride with you for the journey."
His clothes were of fine cloth, with accessories that only the rich and carefree could adorn. 'Twould be foolish to be rude to him, and part of her did not wish to be, anyway. "You may ride where you like, good sir, but the journey is not long."
He continued to engage her with conversation, to ask about her family and her self. She blushed when she caught him looking at her, and cursed herself for doing so. She was an important errand that would prove her maturity and value in the family. She had no time for idle dalliances, particularly with strange men of dark, curly hair, whose shoulders seemed at war with his shirt, and thighs denied any need of saddle astride the brown stud-
She blushed again at her own thoughts and chastised the cattle for their normal speed.
As they reached the stone bridge to the manor, she breathed a sigh of relief, this torturous man would finally part on his own errands, and leave her be.
"Maiden, I have tried to win your attention this entire ride, and yet you spurn me. Here we are now at the manor. Will you abandon the animals you drive and mount my horse for dinner and the evening?"
The hard hoofs of her cattle echoed on the stone bridge. The surely cool water passing below that she suddenly desperately wished to dive into. There was a flush of heat at her neck that neither began nor ended in her chest.
"Good sir, I am only just old enough to bring my family's beasts to market here at the lord's manor. You flatter me, but I must decline your offer." The heat in her bolstered her courage, and gave her reason to strike him back for making her feel this new way. "I will not spend this night, or any other with so bold a stranger whose fine clothes barely contain him!"
His stormy eyes turned dark. His arched eyebrows drew down. "You, girl, have the look of a spring filly, but a heart of stone. If you truly will not leave your animals to be with your lord, then I do hope you enjoy each other for a very long time."
His eyes flashed, and her body froze. She couldn't breathe. The cattle, too, had stopped moving. Her eyes could not leave the man as he rode into his manor. Her skirts hardened in the breeze from the stream, whipping about her trembling legs forever.
David! This was great; I was immersed immediately! I particularly enjoyed the line "something about him drove in as many directions as the cow and bull she drove to market," as well as your use of repetition and rhythm afterwards with more sentences that began with the word "Something." Thank you for sharing!
Thank you for the inspiration. Would you mind if I reposted these 5-minute writings from CIH on my own substack? I'll credit and recommend yours, of course.
Thanks for asking, David. I'm happy to have the creativity challenges spread farther. Can you please use the cross-post function when you share? Thank you!
https://support.substack.com/hc/en-us/articles/10522003894932-How-can-I-share-another-publication-s-post-with-my-subscribers
It won't let me post my whole story using the cross-post feature. I hope you'll be okay with me linking the post instead?
ah, got it. No problem, really appreciate you checking about it, David!
Thank you so much for including the instruction manual!
YUMMY and FUN!
I admire your skills with story setup and payoff, Evelyn!
Poll Q: Instead of writing new material for NANOWRIMO, I will bravely assess my stack of book and story manuscripts and make notes. Which will I edit? Set aside for later? Or burn in a ritual blaze of letting go? PS: Maybe a glitch with your poll? I'm a subscriber but couldn't respond.
haha I love your write-in poll answers! I will be very curious to hear how it ends up!
Not sure why you couldn’t answer in the actual poll, as it seems to have worked for others… technology is fickle! But you know, I enjoyed your answers quite a bit, so I’m glad that original poll didn’t work for you. 😆
And thank you re: my little story!
Ralph, this is such a lovely blend of naval and fantastical styles! I really enjoyed it. Do you like military historicals? Have you read His Majesty's Dragon (the Napoleonic Wars but with dragons instead of ships)?