Fun story starter/character sketch from photo

[lynnmosher]

Here's the next photo. Write a short story (500 words or less) or do a character sketch from the cool attached photo. This should be interesting!

[grateful]

Intriguing! Just marking my spot here so I'll be notified if anyone posts.

Is she shy? Being seductive? Trying to remain unknown?

[lynnmosher]

All sorts of things enter the imagination, don't they? Hope others will jump in.

[Tommie Lyn]

Lynn, since you posted it, I'd like to see what you come up with...

[lynnmosher]

LOL! If I do that, it will take a while. Since it's short, maybe I can handle it. Longer? No way! We'll see what happens!

[grateful]

I hope SOMEBODY posts something soon, because I'm working on mine, but I will not post until somebody else does. The one I'm doing is making me cry, anyway.

Good night, Lynn, you sure do know how to pick a picture!

[lynnmosher]

LOL! Glad you liked it! I'm working on one, too. Gee, thanks, TommieLyn! :D

[grateful]

Okay, as soon as you post yours, I'll post mine, unless yours is so good that I'm embarrassed.

[lynnmosher]

Oh, you are too funny! I don't think so! It'll be up tomorrow...I think.

[grateful]

Could we put the picture right IN the post? Mine's ready. I won't be doing much tomorrow--our ministry, Grateful Ministry, is doing the service at a maximum security prison. Pray for us?

[lynnmosher]

I tried to put it in but it won't work. Just went to Photobucket and had problems. But I think it's here...

[grateful]

Cool! NOw if you put your story right beside it...I'm trying to figure out how to put it in my blog.

[lynnmosher]

Hmmm...I'll send you a message what to do.

[lynnmosher]

Okay, guys and dolls. Here it is...

The Veiled Lady

An empty water jar balances precariously on her head. Her face is veiled not only to avoid the searing stares of Sychar’s society but also to shield her from the rumors of a ruined reputation.

Too many husbands have drained her nuptial well and now she attempts to fill it with another, an unbetrothed suitor. She must go now to the watering hole, to draw from its depths the water to quench her parched thirst, a thirst that lies deeper than the surface of her tongue.

Slipping through the back streets, she shuffles her way out the city’s gate to fulfill her daily duty. As the sun beats down with its heaving swells of heat, she is forced to come to the well of the ancient fathers at the noon hour. The other women choose to draw water during the cooler hours of the day, coming later to remove their veils, to relax, to laugh, and to gossip, usually about this woman.

The heat of the day diametrically differs from the chill of passion that has penetrated this shunned woman’s being. The empty water jug she now carries on her head parallels the emptiness of her heart.

She hides behind a veil of secrecy, as she tries desperately to become invisible. As she approaches the well, she peers out from behind her veil, and, seeing a man who sits on the well’s edge, their eyes meet. He looks deep into the longing of her soul and sees a parched and depleted well. She sees acceptance beyond anything she has ever experienced.

“Give me a drink,” he asks.

“But you’re a Jew,” she says. “Why do you ask for a drink from me, a Samaritan woman?”

“If you only knew. I would satisfy your hollow yearning from a living well, teeming with waters of life that never run dry.”

“Oh, sir, give me this water, that I may not thirst, nor come here to draw.”

“Call your husband to come here also,” he says.

“But, sir,” she says, “I have no husband.”

This stranger, peering into her lifeless eyes hiding within the veil, now seems to know her so well, as he recounts the depth of her past existence.

“Sir, you must be a prophet,” she says. Yet, she discerns him to be more than a prophet, for there is no hint of judgment or condemnation in his voice, only the love of the ages.

Throwing off the veil over her eyes, she sees this man for who he really is and receives the love for which she has so recklessly searched. She drops her water pot by the well and runs back through the city gate to tell the others of the everlasting love she has found in the Messiah.

[Tommie Lyn]

Good job, Lynn. Now that you've demonstrated how well you can write to a prompt, I'll be looking forward to more good stories from you. !thumbsup!

I haven't written to this prompt yet...I have 10 writing prompt stories to write before Thursday...I'll write this one after I finish those.

TL

[lynnmosher]

Oh, TommieLyn, thank you. I don't know that I could keep this up. I think this one had a built-in easy button! LOL!

[grateful]

Well, there you go. Lynn, that is perfect!

Here's mine:


LADY IN SHADOW

Oh, look at her! She’s so beautiful, so perfect! Her eyes…yes, she does look like me as a girl!

My prayer is, if she remembers me at all today, she will forgive me, and that somehow she will know, I never stopped loving her.

When they took her from my arms that day, I screamed and raged and howled with pain and anger. After the syringe discharged its vile contents, I felt nothing, and longed to remain numb. Dead.

I wonder if that is what they told her when she was old enough to understand. In a way it was true. I was dead.

Warden Belling showed no compassion. “You should have thought of that before you stuck up the liquor store. What was a pregnant girl doing in the liquor store, anyway? Now that old man is dead, and you’re locked up for forty years.”

Labor was long and hard, and when she was finally born, the nurse felt sorry for me. Against regulations, she let me hold her for a minute. Alice, I named her. For my mother.

“Do you have anybody who can take her? Your family? Her father?”

No, no and no, I told them. Nobody would want me now. Twenty minutes later, the nurse came back with two big, manly women wearing gray. Parental rights were immediately terminated. End of story.

My veil is not because of my faith, as it might appear. It does grieve me that passersby suppose I am Muslim. I am not. My Savior has kept me sane these nineteen years, and I love Him so. But I cannot be recognized here, and as there are other veiled women, I remain undetected.

I served twenty years “flat,” as my sentence required, and because I had no scrapes with the law while on the inside, I made parole.

If only. Story of my life. If only I hadn’t taken that first hit off the pipe. If only H hadn’t called my name until I had to have more. If only the liquor store fire hadn’t given that old man a heart attack. If only I’d been able to get out before the fire destroyed half of my face. If only…

And yet, here I am. My Savior is with me, and I can see my beautiful baby girl as she marries her handsome soldier. She’ll never have to see me this way. Be happy, Baby. Your mama will love you forever.

[lynnmosher]

Cool premise, Grateful!

[Tommie Lyn]

Good job, Grateful. Powerful story.

[grateful]

"heaving swells of heat..." Lynn, this phrase from your story is so descriptive. When I read it I thought, "Yes! Heaving swells, that's exactly how the midday heat seems to me. Must have been like Texas in August.

[lynnmosher]

Like the August heat and humidity in Kentucky. Yuck!

[jacks girl]

I was on my way to the mall to work on on Friday evening. There was so many crazy outfits tonight I smiled as I entered the store. It was October 30'th and the mall was throwing a Halloween party. It was the first time in a long time that I didn't mind working on Friday. I'd just broken up with Sally and needed to get out just the same.

I was actually excited for the first time to be at work, I wasn't allowed to dress up myself but it was fun watching all the people go by. They all had to pay a dollar to come in and in thirty minutes they would start giving the prizes out.

It would be a fun evening watching all of the people win everything from money to free shoes, to free shopping sprees. What a blast it would be. I was about to close and lock the door and go join in on the fun when one last person came in.

I couldn't see anything but here eyes, but I thought she was so pretty. I was mesmerized by her beauty and for some reason it reminded me of the story about the woman at the well. I assumed this is what she looked like, dressed from head to toe wearing a vale on her face as she met the Savior.

I was so taken with her that i waved her on. I smiled as I had to drop a dollar out of my pocket into the bucket. I'd forgotten to ask her for her fee to get into the evening's festivities.

OH well, I didn't mind, I had a feeling I'd be meeting her again later in the evening. It would be a good starting point to get her to speak to me. After all i was single and all ready in love with those eyes.


Yea yea I know. Romance again. LOL!!!

Jacks Girl

[grateful]

YAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY! Only about an hour ago, I checked here, and was SO disappointed that no one else had picked up the challenge. And this is really cute! Thank you for doing this. Isn't it fun?

Elaine

[lynnmosher]

Fun concept, jacks!

[Tommie Lyn]

The Eyes
Word Count: 424


She wore a black turban pulled down to cover her brow, and she stood behind the entry partition. So all Maurice Bedilia could see were those eyes, mesmerizing, mysterious. Enchanting. They were crystal blue with flecks of silver and gold. Beautiful. And they drew him into their depths with his first glance.

He cleared his throat. “May I help you, madam?”


She made no reply.


For a moment, he was glad she hadn't answered. If she'd spoken everything might have changed.


But . . . strange. Maurice wondered for a moment when she had arrived. He hadn't heard the intrusion of street noises that always came when someone entered, hadn't felt the brief change in temperature that always accompanied the opening of the outer door.


Her eyes flicked away, rested on something more interesting than himself. An overpowering urge to draw them back, to be the object of that relentless stare, gripped him.


“Ah, madam? Is there anything I can do for you?”


Her head shook “no,” a slow, languorous motion, faintly reminiscent of feline grace.


Maurice Bedilia wasn't sure exactly what to do next. He straightened his jacket, adjusted his tie, realized the vestibule seemed too warm and stuffy. He turned unseeing eyes toward the maitre d' stand he stood behind, shuffled the papers.


“Um . . . do you have a reservation, madam?”


A sudden ridiculous notion assaulted him: if she had this much power over him with just that icy blue gaze, what might happen if he saw the rest of her face? Would he melt into a sticky puddle on the carpet? A drop of sweat trickled down the side of his face – was he melting already? – and almost brought a hysterical chuckle, but Maurice grabbed the laughter, hanging onto it by his fingernails, and pushed it safely down.


The outer door opened – there was no missing it this time – and a burly man appeared.


“Hey, honey,” he said, and his words claimed the blue eyes. “Whatchya say we go in and have a bite?”


The couple emerged from behind the screening partition, and Maurice got a full look at the possessor of the eyes.


“'At souns good ta me, sugar,” said the harsh voice that issued from an inexplicably wide, thin-lipped mouth that rested beneath a bulbous nose protruding from the space below the . . . the eyes.


Maurice released his held breath, retrieved his handkerchief from the pocket of his tuxedo jacket and wiped his face. He drew himself up into his impeccable maitre d' stance, looked down his nose and intoned, “May I help you, sir?”

[jacks girl]

Wow didn't see that coming. Good story.

jacks

[grateful]

I didn't see it coming, either. Excellent turn! Well done.

Elaine

[Tommie Lyn]

Thanks. And, Jacks....fun story!

Good job, everyone.

[lynnmosher]

LOL! Loved that! Great writing with a great twist! I think I'll start looking for the next picture. Or if anyone runs across one, post away!

[grateful]

Lynn, this is your theme and you are so very good at it. May I send you an email with some suggestions?

Elaine

[lynnmosher]

I knew I shouldn't have suggested it! LOL! This always happens to me! I once made a suggestion for a new group at church. I got an email asking me why I thought I was qualified to lead the group? Ha!

Sure, Elaine. Send away! I don't remember if you have it.

[grateful]

BINGGGG! You've got mail!

[lynnmosher]

LOL! Ahhh...one of my very favorites!

[Laina]

I watch from behind the torn curtain. Minutes pass. I hear the tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall in front of me. The pitch-black room closes in on me.

I hear soft footsteps coming towards me. As I peer through the ripped material, my eye darts from right to left, scanning as much of the room as possible. I crouch lower in case Esh sees my eye. The footsteps stop.

I raise my body, eye level with the opening in the curtain. The air, heavy, sucks at my breath. My lungs narrow. I take in a short breath. My whole body shakes, my skin crawls. I rub my arms to smooth out the goose bumps.

Is it Esh? I can’t see. I hear soft footsteps, again. My heart races; beating against my ribs. My blood rushes, pulsates – pounding my eardrums. Will Esh find me? The tap of feet cease their contact with the floor. I hold my breath. I let it out slow, quiet. My forehead beads. I should run.

The drapes glide to the left in slow motion. I raise my eyes to the dark form towering me. Esh glares, his gaze stabs my heart. Oh no. It’s him. He's going to kill me.

Black-coal eyes afire with hate pierce my soul. I dash to the right of him, but his gloved hand grabs my arm and pulls me to his chest. He grabs my neck with his viselike claws. He squeezes pressing his fingers into my throat. I gasp. He jerks me to the left, then right; my head bobs, rolls and flops backward. I drop to the floor.

I lay there on the cold-planked floor. Seconds pass. I wait. I don't hear anything except heavy breathing.

Then, I hear applause. Esh grabs my arm. I’m under his spell, he pulls me towards him. I allow him to lift me from the floor. I have no choice.

More clapping. We bow in unison, raking in the applause, hearing, “bravo, encore.” I scan the crowd, glance over at Esh, smile and bow again.

[grateful]

Good job. I sensed you had a trick up your sleeve, which made for tension, and your quick turn was fun.

Elaine

[Laina]

Hi Elaine. Thanks, I'm glad you liked it.

[lynnmosher]

Hey, Laina! Great job! Love that ending!

[Laina]

Thanks Lynn!

[Nora]

I'm hiding. I hope he doesn't find me. I'm so afraid that he will. Is that him over there by the water fountain? I hope not. I told Mother we shouldn't run from him that he'd find us. No that's not him. I'm so relieved. I know I look like a Muslim woman in this getup. That's what makes it such a good way to travel. Travel, I hate to travel. I'd better go back to the hotel --fleabag hotel that it is-- Mother will start to worry. I told her I'd only be gone for a little while. Looking at my watch, I see it's been almost an hour already. I'll be glad when we cross the state line tomorrow, maybe then we're be safe. Who am I kidding?

[grateful]

Nora, you're on to something...don't stop now!

Elaine

[Tommie Lyn]

Good job, Laina and Nora.

TL