WEP - A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

 It's that time again. 

A new challenge was posted by the gals at the WEP. Write...Edit...Publish

Flash fiction at it's best! Are you game?

Then join the fun!

***

A Hard Rain

She gazes and sighs

at the angry clouds

the surprisingly calm ocean

and the horizon so far

A Hard Rain is Gonna Fall

she questions her motives

is she validated

or just an attention seeker

all she wants

is freedom

independence

a life less hidden

but to achieve that goal

others will suffer

many will shake their heads

and say, what’d you expect

the girl's been off balance

her entire life

never did know

when she had it good

always seeking

never satisfied

I swear

even in death

she'll look for a third option

unsatisfied with Heaven

or Hell…

Yolanda Renee © 2022

****

Your turn, just give it a try. 

A poem, a short story, flash fiction, or another artistic expression!

A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall has been described as the ‘most idiosyncratic protest song ever written.’ Bob Dylan, the Nobel Laureate and another 60's icon, wrote, composed and sung it in 1962 when he was only 21. It’s been covered by many artistes including Pete Seeger, Joan Baez and has never really stopped being sung ever since. Dylan has sold  more than 125 million records/albums making him one of the most popular artistes of all time.  

The form is modelled on the traditional ballad in the question and answer format, the themes being human suffering – pollution, warfare, isolation, angst. Sixty years after Dylan presented it at a performance at Carnegie Hall, the lyrics are striking in that how relevant they are still, how contemporary their feel and the depth of their appeal. Read more about the song here and here.

This one is wide open to all kinds of interpretations. Because human suffering – it’s as wide, deep and long as life is, of a trillion takes potential.

Use it to zoom in on our current ‘hard rain’ of covid. Chisel out your own pandemic flash from what’s going on around you.

Or weave a tale of some other woe – bleeding hammers, broken tongues, dead oceans, homes in the valley meeting damp, dirty prisons. The lyrics are epic, apocalyptic and offer rich pickings. Set your tale around the climate issues; the refugee crisis; the endless hardships that the hard rains of bullets and bombs, volcanic eruptions, oil spills have brought.

Or bypass all the bleakness and melancholy and simply spin a conversation between a parent and a child on some deep life issue. Or a light-hearted one. A million directions to go. The possibilities are endless.

 A freehand is what we give you,  you give the song a listen and see what happens...

Copied from the WEP Challenges page

**********

 

I Did it!

I WON!

This year I had two projects to complete.

A Passion for Murder had approximately 20,000 words already completed. And a newer project, a suspenseful romance set in Myrtle Beach, I had about the same,

 just under 20,000 words.

Neither was close to being done. 

For some reason, this year,

I struggled to accomplish all I set out to do.

But with NANO, I had one final chance.

And

I finished the first draft of 

both stories during this challenge. 

Adding about 30,000 words to each.

The only way to do it was to just hunker down and commit to the writing. 

I ignored all else. 

But with the support of hubby

who did most of the cooking, it worked!

 I was determined to write daily. 

And I did.

I'm thrilled with the results.

Yay me! :) 

How about you, 

did you get there too?

 

WEP - MELTING SNOW

Judgement day for the winter ice challenge had arrived, and they were excited to learn if their favorites had won. Glenna had chosen the Dragon War, and David had picked the Angels in Flight. The winner would buy dinner at Anchorage's best restaurant, The Crow's Nest.

David told her the freshly fallen snow was the lure, but she knew that a proposal was his goal. Glenna was ready for the commitment. After all, they'd been together for over a year, and two people more suited didn't exist. They had similar goals, enjoyed all things outdoor, and they both agreed that love and family were the keys to success.

She'd met the handsome pilot on a flight she'd taken during a school training project. His knowledge and skill made the trip a success, and their first date left no doubt they had a future together. He'd cooked dinner for her over a campfire in the back yard of the cabin he'd built with his own hands. Fresh salmon, corn on the cob, new potatoes, and homemade blueberry ice cream. The way to a man's heart may be through his stomach, but for Glenna, his down-home cooking, adventure filled stories, and sense of humor had won her heart.

"Think twice, Sissy!" David shouted and threw the first snowball; just a handful of snow, but it caught Glenna by surprise.

"You're in trouble now," she yelled, but quickly gathered two handfuls and formed a perfect ball. She threw it, laughing and ducking at the same time. Their snowball fight lasted just minutes, but his concussion and subsequent coma would mar their future.

*****

Sissy, or Glenna Parks, as her friends knew her, rinsed her face with cold water, and stared at her reflection. Haggard looking after another sleepless night, she wondered how life could take such a sharp, sudden turn.

She'd just won the job of a lifetime and would be teaching history at the University of Alaska in Anchorage. David Carter, her beau, was about to pop the question, his recent inquiry the clue.

"How do you feel about antique jewelry?" he'd asked.

"I love all things with a history," she'd told him.

Life couldn't have been sweeter. She recalled his last kiss, confident that he was going down on one knee then. Instead, he gathered up a handful of snow and changed their lives forever.

Now he couldn't even recall her name. At first, he didn't know his own name, even denied being a pilot, claimed to be afraid of heights, and a Texan living in Alaska, not reality. The man who awoke from the coma was not the man who had slipped on the ice.

Dripping water reminded her of the blood she'd tried to staunch with their woolen scarves but to no avail. The paramedics hurried him away, and she followed. Glenna willed him back to consciousness, but she wasn't prepared for the hateful stranger who greeted her.

Now, a week later, a few memories had returned giving her hope that the rest would soon follow. Glenna wasn't sleeping, barely eating, and David's lack of recognition hurt on a level she didn't even know existed. Yesterday, he'd asked her to leave him alone.

"I don't need a stranger watching or commenting on my every move. Especially one with sad puppy dog eyes."

Hiding her tears, she left. Today she'd returned with an entire picture album of their adventures together, something to spark David's memory. She promised herself she would just drop it off, but when she arrived, he was asleep. She waited, watched, prayed, and eventually fell into a deep sleep herself.

Still holding his hand, she dreamed of the David she knew. The warmth and strength of him were as she remembered, but reality was waking in a sterile hospital room with spittle dripping from her open mouth. She rushed into the bathroom to revive herself. Gazing into the mirror, she vowed to recapture their happiness.

"Hey, beautiful. I was hoping you'd return for a visit," David said. The tone, the comment, hey beautiful, was pure David. Ready to answer, she dried her face, but someone else beat her to it.

"Hi, handsome. You look better. How are you feeling?"

Giggling.

"Oh my, you are feeling better!" The voice of the doctor who'd admitted him sounded too friendly, syrupy, and seductive.

"Except for an almost constant headache, pretty darn good, especially now that you're here!" David cooed.

Glenna listened. Their conversation wasn't the typical discussion between doctor and patient. They were flirting.

"Why don't you spring me from this place? I'll buy dinner?' David asked.

"First thing tomorrow morning. Dinner sounds wonderful, but I thought you were spoken for. What's her name? Glenda?"

"Glenna? No. No way, she's not my type. Believe me. We're just friends. I actually had to ask her to leave. I honestly hope she never comes back. That whiny voice of hers grates on the ears. Besides, what adult woman would ever accept Sissy as a nickname?"

"You sure you remember everything. What about the ring we found in your pocket?"

"Yeah, I know. The engagement ring was my mother’s. Dad sent it to me along with a few other mementos. That ring has nothing to do with Sissy."

The way he said her nickname hurt deep in her soul. It was meant to be something only they shared. Sissy was an endearment her grandfather used when she was younger, and David claimed for his own. No one else could call her Sissy.

 Glenna managed to leave the room without notice. The silhouette of their embrace on the curtain, then the sound of kissing assaulted her as she crept away. She dropped the picture album in the wastebasket and left the hospital just moments after a blizzard hit, but she didn't feel the Arctic chill, or the warm tears streaming from her eyes.

Nor did Glenna see the car that careened out of control due to the ice and snow.

Yolanda Renée © 2016

996 words / FCA

Angel Crying Copyright

Follow the link to read more 
WEP Utopian Dreams Entries.

Just Released
Memories of Murder 
on
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BUY HERE!

IWSG - FINISHED?

Insecure Writer's Support Group

Brought to you by Alex J. Cavanaugh

October's Question: 

When do you know your story is 

ready?

When you first type "The End," you think it's over. 

You're thrilled beyond reason because you've accomplished the desired goal. You walk away, celebrate and then you send it out to betas and editors. 

You begin planning the tour, the marketing.

Then the critics of your masterpiece arrive in your inbox.

Guess what?

You're not finished.

That's when the rewriting begins along with more questioning, and uncertainty. Suddenly you fear that none of your hard work will ever see the light of day.

But guess what?

You work through it.

Whether it's significant rewriting or minor, you work through it. You realize all those suggestions from the beta readers and editors make perfect sense, have added to your story, and now, finally, it is perfect. 

Well, almost.

When you finally hand it off to the publisher, you're sure it's ready, but then, there's, even more, editing and rewriting. But you get through that too, it's what writers do.

Hitting the send button on that Final Finished Edited Copy that now looks nothing like the original, is when you know it's finished! At least that's the prayer.

 *****

Be sure to thank all the awesome co-hosts - Beverly Stowe McClure, Megan Morgan, Viola Fury, Madeline Mora-Summonte, Angela Wooldridge, and Susan Gourley!

*****

Have you decided which 

WEP Challenge you'll tackle?

and or

What ever your choice

be sure to sign up now!

WEP October Challenge

WEP = GARDENS

 It's time again for a new WEP challenge! And the subject is 'Gardens'!

Our next

W E P - Write…Edit…Publish 

challenge is a great opportunity for photographers, but also for writers attempting to describe the most beautiful gardens ever seen. Like the Spectacular Settings challenge, you'll get to use words to take your readers to a unique place.

For example nonfiction on 'The Best Gardens in the World', or historical--'The Hanging Gardens of Babylon', travel- 'The Lingering Garden at Suzhou' or something similar for travelers.

Also, as always our fictional pieces with a romantic/unromantic garden scene, or photographs of mind-blowing gardens to motivate people, etc.

These are examples of great gardens, but some of us have personal gardens that are just as beautiful. 

What will you choose as your inspiration? The garden you planted or a great garden from an exotic place.

Since the southern hemisphere is experiencing the winter months, why not a garden covered in snow.

Winter creates a new landscape, sometimes a beautiful fairyland, at times a mysterious one, and on other occasions a frightening one. 

Remember a garden is a garden is a garden no matter what month or season it is!

Happy writing!

Thanks to the creativity of Olga Godim, here are two badges for the Gardens Challenge.

Make your choice but please help us advertise the challenge. We've been silent for too long. Maybe folks have forgotten us. Help us remind them!

 Help us Celebrate February's Challenge!

We'd love if you'd Tweet one of these:

Does a lush garden inspire your creativity? A new writing challenge. @DeniseCCovey & @YolandaRenee join us http://yolandarenee.blogspot.com/2016/07/wep-gardens.html  #WEPFF

A Flash Fiction that inspires the gardener in you. Coming in August. Join us. @DeniseCCovey & @YolandaRenee  http://yolandarenee.blogspot.com/2016/07/wep-gardens.html  #WEPFF

A garden can inspire beauty, horror, or love. What does it inspire in you? @DeniseCCovey & @YolandaRenee  http://yolandarenee.blogspot.com/2016/07/wep-gardens.html   #WEPFF

Will you join us for a new challenge?

You choose the medium!

You choose the genre!

You choose the word count (1000 word maximum)!

You choose how the prompt inspires you!

We look forward to seeing your contribution!

If you could change anything about the WEP what would it be?

Denise and I thank you!

Wikipedia Garden Scenes ©

Winter Garden Scenes ©

Also

Father Dragon, Al Diaz

is in need of some help

Please check out his blog for more information or

email him direct at

fatherdragon1@gmail.com

ALIEN MAID

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

A flash fiction challenge of 100 words or less

The photo prompt copyright Roger Bultot .

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS!

ALIEN MAID

At the company Christmas party, Arthur, my boss, made a pass. I rejected him. Left early.

The elevator doors open and I'm no longer on Earth.

Somewhere, thousands of light years from home I've been sold into slavery.

A former scientist, I now wear the uniform of a maid.

During my last job, I carried a tray of appetizers into a gathering of the planet's elite. Arthur stood among them. His human form gone. But an alien frame couldn't hide the eyes that deceived.

On my next pass through the room, the tray hid my knife.

Arthur enslaves no more.

100 words

Yolanda Renee © 2015

*****

The December Challenge

of 

WEP Write...Edit...Publish

 is now live.

Sign up today and write a 

Sci-fi tale of 

Holiday Celebrations 

that are out of this World.

Join us!

HOW I WRITE FLASH FICTION

Google that question and you'll find a plethora of how to's. Wiki-how.com has a numbered response with pictures for that answer. Since the answer is readily available, I thought I'd tell you exactly how I do it. 

I'm no expert but if you've been reading my blogs lately you know I participate in two weekly flash fiction challenges – Mondays Finish the Story – and Friday Fictioneers.

With Mondays Finish the Story – Barbara W. Beachman gives us a picture and a first sentence prompt. For Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields gives only a photo prompt. She expects 100 words while Barbara gives us a challenge of 150 words. I enjoy both and if you're interested, please click the links to find out more.

As soon as the prompt is posted, I save the photograph to my desktop. I make it my desktop background until the story is finished simmering in my head.

However, the first thing I do is put myself into the scene – no matter what or where it is. Then I start to detail my story through the questions I ask. 

For a recent Mondays Finish The Story, the picture was of a black cat hiding behind a curtain, his paws clearly visible, and his bright green eyes shining through the thin material. Barbara posted the sentence "He thought he had found the perfect hiding place."

I became the cat. Why would a black cat hide? Whom would he hide from? What was happening that made him hide? From that, I fashioned my story Spells & Potions. See, it's that simple. I also try to find a way to end the story with something fun, unexpected, and surprising. It's not necessary, just fun.

You can read Spells & Potions HERE!

For a recent Friday Fictioneers, the photo prompt was a winter scene with a pavilion. I placed myself at the scene and then asked the question, why was I there? I decided for a first date. Moreover, while I made it a lovely first date, with the possibility of more for this young couple, and could have ended it that way, but I like a twist.

You can read First Date HERE!

I read First Date to my husband and son, and they immediately said, no one proposes on a first date. However, I had personal experience as proof they were wrong. I've had such a proposal, not once, not even twice, but three times – thank God, my dates didn't carry knives. :)

I hope this gives you some insight into how I write flash fiction, and an excuse to try one yourself. Once I see the prompt, I can usually get the story written in a very short time. I always write, edit, edit, edit, and then publish. The first draft is never good enough. Still the entire process takes very little time, I'd say from beginning to end, one hour, and it's fun!

And now you have my secret to flash fiction prompts:

QUESTIONS

It's a technique I learned when my son was young, and we had a long ride in the car. He'd get anxious and cranky. So we created stories. I'd ask a question. He'd give me an answer and then I'd embellish his answer and add another question. On one such trip, we fashioned a story of how he and his trusty best friend, his dog Peanut, saved the moon from a cheese eating alligator. He had fun, and a long ride became much shorter.

I use the same technique of asking questions during all my writing, especially when the story falters. Ask the right question, because there's always an answer!

While it might seem easy to put yourself into a photo prompt to get your story, you can do the same with a title, a list of words, or a sentence. What image do the words conjure? You're a writer, use that imagination and paint our story.

Speaking of painting a scene, today on WEP-Write…Edit…Publish Denise is detailing settings on a blog titled Spectacular Settings Mean Spectacular Reads, please check out her advice; she is the master of amazing scenery and atmosphere.

Detailed scenic writing is almost a lost art in the modern day of quick stories – get to the action – and short attention spans. Denise's scenic writing takes you to a destination without a photograph because she creates the scene fully through her writing. So check out the WEP blog and learn how add atmosphere to your writing.                        CLICK HERE!

HAPPY WRITING!

Do you have any secrets to writing you can share? 

Do prompts do it for you? Is it a title, a few words, or a complete sentence that gets your flash fiction writing juices started?

Come on share – it's just between you and me!

COFFEE BLACK

 COFFEE BLACK

“The barista shook his head. That hedge couldn’t have moved closer overnight. Could it?”

Don't be foolish, you're just imagining things.

"Coffee, black, please?" a stranger demands.

"Yes, sir. Anything for a connoisseur of the bean?"

His face contorts. "A what? What did you call me?"

"Oh, no sir. A connoisseur an expert, someone who loves the pure taste of the coffee bean. No insult intended." I add a bear claw to his order. "No charge, please, enjoy."

"Shit, I'm sorry." He wipes his forehead with a napkin. "I'm exhausted, been driving all day. Still have hours to go. Never drink the stuff, but I need to stay awake. Thanks." He picked up the bear claw and took a bite. "Now that I consider myself a connoisseur of, d-e-l-i-c-i-o-u-s."

I cringe, smile, and switch off the open sign. He'll be dead before he gets the key in the ignition. His tall, lanky body is perfect.

Time to start that row of Gumby shaped hedges.

150 words

Yolanda Renee © 2015

*****

Mondays Finish the Story

http://www.bing.com/images/search?

GUMBY

Since Gumby and I are too old is so unfamiliar and folks don't get the gist of the story

I thought I should post this. :) 

Enjoy!

*****

In the near future consider a new Flash Fiction Challenge with the WEP