Give Me All Your Stories!

Remind me to come back her and get all nostalgic and stuff about my visit to Washington and Montana. Also, remind me that once upon a time I had been involved in the Year of Creative Pursuits and one of the main components of that was to blog once a month about our goals and things. Yeah…

But enough about that, for now. I’m really here because it is my turn to host the Give Me Your Story Challenge. I will present you with a picture prompt and then everyone has roughly a month  (October 6th) to create something based on it and submit it in the comments. Those are basically the rules and everyone is encouraged to join in. EVERYONE!

I will declare a winner at the end of the challenge and a prize of some sort will be rewarded. Others who have participated so far have rewarded crafty type things, and maybe I’ll try that, but more than likely it will be more in the “TADA, here, have some coffee on me!” type prize.

So, here is the picture, taken by my multi-talented brother in law, Travis Torman:


Happy Writing, ya’ll!

28 thoughts on “Give Me All Your Stories!

  1. Penny Thompson Dobbins

    She waited, trying her best to be patient. The last time he came she ran down the hall, took the steps two at a time, walking just wouldn’t do, it had been too long. She had leaped into his strong, waiting arms, the hug warm and safe. The kiss soft, hot and long. During dinner his brown eyes had gazed into her blue when he asked, “Was it all my fault?” “No, it wasn’t just you.” “We’re like the oil and vinegar in the salad dressing, a really good idea and delicious when together, but no matter what you do, in the end they always come apart.”
    She stood for just a few more moments with the snowflakes swirling around her. Maybe we’re just not meant to be together and I have to be the strong one.
    She looked up at the flashing yellow light, it seemed to be calling to her to move forward.
    Through swirling snowflakes, memories and tears she crossed the busy street.
    She heard him calling her name, she didn’t look back. Not this time.

  2. Penny Dobbins

    Thank you! I usually keep my writing very close and no one is allowed to see but you were so wonderful when you did a reading at Déjà Brew I thought I could go out on a limb with you. Thank you for being kind to a struggling novice. Your kindness is appreciated and will not be forgotten.

  3. Briane Pagel

    Frozen Charlotte Joins The Gang

    There were three things I knew for sure instantly: I loved her, we couldn’t possibly bring her with us, and this was the worst possible time to find her.

    I stopped the car. Dave yelled at me but I told him knock it off I’d be right back. I took the keys to be safe.

    All the smart people were already gone. All the helpful people were holding the keys to one of the only working cars still around.

    I ran to her.

    I said come on come with us.

    She didn’t move.

    Her eyes were beautiful. Her skin too pale to be real skin, like it was ice.

    Fast, I said. Got to go fast.

    Things were still breaking up, around here.

    Back in the car the rest of the people I was helping were restless, yelling to leave her.

    She hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked. I’d have married her on the spot. I’d spent my whole life looking for her without realizing it.

    I don’t know what blew up. Something. Whatever was blowing up that day. When the smoke cleared and the ash dropped around us like snow, it was just her standing there on the corner, the car gone. I told myself we could walk, maybe, but she wouldn’t move. She just stood, staring off into the distance, and I couldn’t leave her, so I sat next to her and waited for whatever came next.

  4. Kate

    If – make that when – I retire and I’m telling my grandchildren about being a spy, I’m going to emphasize the sheer, unadulterated boredom. Not to mention idiots who decide to set up meets in the middle of January when the weather is supposed to be snow.

    Seriously! Who doesn’t notice the third day of snow coming?

    The snowflakes are large, fluffy, and perfect for making snowballs. It’s also cold where it drips down the back of my neck. When I get my hands on “Boris” I’m going to… I don’t know. Poison his vodka maybe? Give him a wedgie?

    My wig is itchy and it takes every ounce of my self-control to not adjust it. The fuzzy fur of my hat is warm, but the faux fur of my jacket is not. It’s thin enough that I can wear my bullet-proof vest and sweater under it and still be cold.

    My boots are cute, but they’re already soaked by the snow. My toes ache from the cold. I keep my arms crossed to hide my gun. I feel like someone’s been watching me since I got to this god-forsaken corner. I glance down at my wrist. Another thirty minutes until I count this as a failed operation.

    I’m flying without backup today. “Boris” never thinks about the fact that some cop will try to arrest me for prostitution. Well, if it weren’t cold enough to preserve meat on the streets and freeze the ink in his pen he might.

    A brown car slows by the curb. The driver opens his window. “Hey, Foxy-J, hop in.”

    It’s the right code and I sit in the seat, then swing my legs in to avoid uncrossing my arms. My teeth would be chattering, but I’m more in control than that. I keep my hand hidden and grip my gun carefully. The car takes off smoothly, not even dinging about my not having my seatbelt on.

    “Little-B said you had something for me?”

    “Let’s get somewhere a little less exposed.” The heater isn’t even on in this POS. It gives the driver the excuse to wear gloves and a heavy coat. It also keeps him from noticing my crossed arms as anything beyond cold.

    The driver takes me to the worst part of the warehouse district. It’s dark in the shadow of the warehouse. Graffiti and broken window-panes tell me that security in here is laughable. I shift my bag onto my lap and reach inside.

    The driver pulls his gun, but I fire first. The bullet bites into the fleshy part of hies thigh. The femoral artery sprays blood, steaming and coppery. The driver drops his gun to grab his leg. “You bitch,” he hisses at me, as though he weren’t about to shoot me.

    I roll my eyes, then grab his weapon, replacing it with my own. I’m sure that it’s fingerprint free. I wait until he bleeds out, then leave him there. There’s no way they’ll find him before my footsteps are filled in by the snow.

    Finally, I can scratch at my head. I walk out of the parking lot and toward the disposable car I left in front of the red warehouse. I shove my bloody coat into a trashbag in the trunk. I relax as I drive out of town.

    I text “Boris” a simple “done” and drop the phone out of the window. It smashed on the salted highway and shatters.

  5. Penny Dobbins

    I loved the vivid descriptions and dumping Boris. As a matter of fact, on second thought, did you run this past Security for approval before disclosing these Secret details?
    A fan!

  6. Jules

    If there was a way I could trigger warning this without giving everything away I would. I’m apologizing now.
    She could have walked home. Even in the snow and the slush and the cold it was only seven blocks. Seven blocks of fairly good sidewalk at that.

    The distance wasn’t the point.

    Hell, if the point was just getting home she could have taken a ride from any of the last three people who offered. Or the old librarian sitting in her car staring at Ellen while the engine ran because ‘she was such a sweet dear, and anything could happen.’

    Ellen didn’t look back at her. She didn’t look at the half-empty cafe behind her. She stood on the corner with her arms folded over her chest and stared straight ahead.

    The point was this time it wasn’t going to be her fault. She didn’t really see how it could be her fault anyway–she got off the same time every shift, and he was supposed to come get her if it was raining or snowing or too hot–he forgot, that shouldn’t have been on her. And she understood when it was hot. He was in the office with the air conditioning and it wasn’t as if someone popped by at 2:45 to remind him it was over a hundred degrees and she was getting off soon.

    Except she was pretty sure old Nell, the secretary next door down, did exactly that.

    It’d been snowing for three goddamn days.

    Every time it happened the same way. Ellen stood at the corner and waited for him to show. And waited. And waited. When she’d been standing there so long her back started to hurt she either started walking home or she took a ride from somebody. On the good days she was just cold and pink-cheeked when she got home, and her mother rolled her eyes and grumbled about how everybody else in the family was too goddamn lazy to do anything right.

    If she walked home in the snow she’d be soaked to the bone, dripping and frozen and the slush was more or less guaranteed to ruin her boots, and that’d be her fault to.

    Not this time. She’d stand there until he showed up. If it meant she had to stand there until he went home for supper and suddenly realized he’d forgotten her–again–then so be it.

    Her resolve held steady for the first hour.

    Somewhere in the middle of the second she shifted around and milled her arms. Drew a star in the slow accumulating at her feet. It was late in hour two when the librarian put her car in drive and crawled her way toward home, face sad and set. Like Ellen needed or wanted her pity.

    The sky was starting to get dark, and the snow was picking up by hour three. Any minute he’d be home for dinner and realize. Soon. A pair of headlights appeared in the distance, and she chaffed her hands together. It made it to the stop sign a couple of blocks back and she sighed, dejected.

    It was just the police cruiser.

    The steering groaned when the cruiser turned in front of her and pulled right up to the curb. The window rolled down. “Ellen?”


    “You better get in.” The officer reached out and opened the passenger door, face pale and sad.

    “I’m waiting for my father.”

    “I know.”

  7. Penny Dobbins

    So sad. I loved the ending. I would be interested in reading more to see how she deals with all of these emotions that are churning inside…
    Good job.

  8. Kim

    Amanda pulled up slowly to the corner. The car’s tires slid slightly in the snow and ice slush. She peered through the streaked windshield at the woman standing on the snow covered sidewalk. She pressed the button to lower the passenger’s window.

    “Mary! Mary get over here!” Amanda called out.

    The woman turned and grinned in tired relief. She crunched through the ankle deep snow. “Oh thank god,” she said as she climbed inside the warm car. “Amazing timing. I just missed the bus and it was going to be at least thirty minutes until the next one.”

    “It was meant to be. “ Amanda carefully pulled away from the curb. “So home, or do you need to stop somewhere else.”

    “Home sounds good. Unless you need to stop somewhere before we get to my place.”

    “I do need to deal with that Marvin issue.”

    Mary gave her a surprised look. “You haven’t dealt with that yet?”

    Amanda sighed. “I was going to do it yesterday but well, the storm hit and I didn’t want to deal with the roads.”

    “The roads aren’t too bad now, what did you have in mind?”

    “There’s that old road that goes behind the dump. I looked it over and there are no cameras or other security measures. They leave the keys in the bulldozer there. I thought we could dump him there and use the dozer to make sure the car tire treads are destroyed.”

    Mary grinned at her. “Lets stop at my place and change clothes. I think you still have some clothes from the last time you stayed when he got violent. Where is his body?”

    “In the trunk.” She raised one hand off the steering wheel at Mary’s disbelieving look. “Like I said, I had plans for getting rid of him yesterday. I missed the weather report so the snow surprised me. I didn’t want to try to get his body out of the trunk with the kids home. I figured it would be fine with the freezing temperatures.”

    “Did you at least get rid of the poison?”

    Amanda gave her a disgusted look. “Of course I did. I put it and all the other stuff in the incinerator at work. That evidence is totally destroyed.”

    “Fantastic. We get rid of the asshole and we are golden.”

    They gave each other a smile and Amanda turned her car towards Mary’s apartment.

    1. Kate

      “Do you wanna dump a body?” <- obligatory Frozen reference.

      I'm still grinning at this story. Does that mean I'm weird?

      Also, congrats to your poisoner for being smart enough to dump her murder weapon!

      1. Kim

        I had to have her get rid of the evidence. Always annoys me on those true life crimes when the murderer is found with the murder weapon still in their house or car. Ugh.

  9. Ash

    The cold was bitter. She felt it all the way to her bones. Her coat was not heavy enough for this weather. She wore her cute one, the one he liked, thinking it would help her stay in his good graces when she broke the news. She was wrong. In fact, she thought it made him angrier. She had only been employed with the company for six months. How could she have been so stupid? They warned her about him, how he loved to….what was the phrase Carl from accounting used?…..”tap every HPOA in the office”. Be careful, they said. She thought she had been. She didn’t take the office Christmas party into consideration. He took interest in her, making sure to talk about family, friends, school, work, and her daily life. He made her think he genuinely interested in her, all the while keeping her in fresh supply of alcohol.

    “I like talking to you,” he said, “most women here are more interested in my money and my Mercedes than they are my mind and feelings? Can we go some where a bit more private? I want to talk to you some more.”

    She bought it hook, line, and sinker. She was too inebriated to think properly and followed him to a supply closet.

    Twelve weeks later, she found herself standing on a corner in the snow completely lost. She needed to get home soon to lay down. She started to feel sick and she really didn’t want to throw up in public. Again. She told him it was his. She thought he would be kind and help her. Instead, he called her a whore.

    “I will see your ass in court!” she screamed as she stormed out of the cafe.

    She stood on that corner, waiting for her cab. She was going to have to call her parents and ask for help. They were not going to be happy with her, but hopefully they would listen. She would need a lawyer and a judge would need to order paternity test. She could sue him for emotional damage, couldn’t she?

    She was so lost in thought that she did not see the black Mercedes jump the curb on a collision course with her.

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