WEP Challenge for 22nd November 2013 - Sharing

Welcome to WEP's Blogfest for November [=Write-Edit-Publish, formerly 'Romantic Friday Writers'] Challenge for Friday 22 November 2013 - 'Sharing':

'Oh, we were just talking about how nice it is to share our home with you two-leggeds!' says Mathilda and looks up at me holding my camera.

Best wishes,
Anna










First Commenter:

Tanya Walton
of
Allotments 4 you

Write-Edit-Publish Challenge for September - 'Moving On'

Welcome to WEP's Blogfest SEPTEMBER [=Write-Edit-Publish, formerly 'Romantic Friday Writers'] Challenge for Friday 20 September 2013 - 'Moving On...'

Here's my text:

Moving on...

Melissa Hart woke up one morning to find that her bed had grown during the night. It was huge. She walked around on the soft down coverlet that seemed to be three or fours times the size that it was the night before. Yes, the bed had grown in width, breadth and height. She looked down at her slippers on the floor beside the bed and tried to guess the distance. Then she noticed her hands: Instead of fingers, she had small appendages with retractable claws. Her arms were covered with hair! Fur! What had she become?

Looking out from the edge of the bed, Melissa searched for a mirror or a glass table with a cake that says "Eat me!" on it. She hopped off the bed with ease and landed on all fours. Then she found a full length mirror on the inside of an open closet door: There was a cat looking back at her from the other side of the glass. A small tortoise-shell cat or kitten, is what she had become!

How did this happen? Am I dreaming? wondered Melissa as she wandered about the room trying to discern where she was. She was not, as she first thought, at home in her own bedroom. But the room seemed familiar. Then she heard a voice: "Come Kitties! Time for breakfast!" 

Oh no! thought Melissa as she arched her back and her fur stood on end, It's Catrina, my former sister-in-law! Catrina has at least five cats! But I still don't understand, why I am a cat! Have I died during the night and returned as a cat? But how could I remember my life as a human being?

Melissa leaped up onto a chest of drawers, thinking there may be a purse or a wallet with some identification. Where's my handbag?! 

On the nightstand by the bed she spotted a leather shoulder bag. There it is! Melissa jumped up on the bed again and pulled the handbag to the middle of the bed. Using her front paws and face she found her cellphone in its own case with shoulder strap and her wallet with identification and credit cards. She removed her driver's license and debit-card from her wallet and squeezed them into her cellphone bag. Then she tied a knot on the strap to shorten it and put her head through the loop so that she could carry the bag as a cat-size shoulder bag. It hung in front of her like a bib.

Where do I go now? she wondered looking for an open door or window. The door to the hall was ajar, but she was ready to hop up and open a door if needed. Luckily, she was still in Europe. It would be harder to open a door with a spherical American door knob!

No one in the hall. But which way? Melissa followed the light from a room that had a washer and dryer. She leaped atop the dryer and escaped through an open window. She was outside now. Free at last! 

Stick to the woods, Melissa! said an inner voice. And she did. She ran until she was out of breath. I should be able to climb trees, she thought and climbed a medium sized birch that swayed in the wind at the top. But what a view! Now all she has to do is decide where to go. It was a rural area; there were fields and meadows and farm houses. It was autumn, too. She still had time to find order in her life before winter, if this was to be a permanent condition. Or maybe it was only temporary and she could return to her life as a human being. She had her driving license and bankcard with her, in case. But could she just walk into a bank and ask for help? Could she still talk? She could at least still think. And as long as you can think, there is hope.

Melissa looked hard at the landscape beneath her and spied a children's tree house built solidly up in an old oak. She scurried down the ever-swaying birch and ran toward the oak. Would there be children using it? She would have to take that chance. Maybe they were at school. When Melissa had climbed up to the tiny room built between ancient boughs, she felt safe. She could rest here and think about what to do next. She put down her cellphone bag and remembered with horror that she did not bring the battery-charger. She could perhaps make one or two phone calls. Try to speak, Melissa! But she could not form the words. She sounded like a cat! But she could send a text message! But to whom? Perhaps to Olof, her former friend and love?

Pressing the phone buttons was not easy. She ended up holding the cellphone between her hind-legs and pressing the buttons with the unsure digits of her forepaws:

Dear Olof,

Forgive me. Please help me. Could you rescue a kitten hiding up in a play house in an oak tree behind the Nilssons barn? I will explain everything if you do me this one favour. 

I still love you. 

Melissa

P.S. 

Send a text message to my cell phone if you cannot do this.  I seem to have lost my voice and cannot speak on the phone.

Melissa waited.  Nothing happened right away, so she curled up beside the phone and lay her head on the bag as a pillow.

Finally, she heard a signal for an incoming text-message.

Dear Melissa,

I'll take care of the kitty. I'm on my way now! But when will I see you?  And I still love you!  

Olof

Melissa  punched the words: 'You'll see me soon', but she had no idea how she was going to explain all of this to Olof. She would just have to take one thing at a time. Melissa fell happily asleep.

Word count: 997 (NCCO)

Kitten Elsa held by my daughter, Elisabet

 

This story is completely fictional. Any similarity to events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. But for those who follow my blog, it is clear that my cats have inspired me!

Copyright 2013 Anna Christina Wigren Nordeman

Best wishes,
Anna










First Commenter:
Yolanda Renée
of
Defending the Pen

Write-Edit-Publish's Challenge for August - Vacation

Welcome to the Write-Edit-Publish's [formerly 'Romantic Friday Writers'] Challenge for Wednesday, 21st to Friday 23rd August 2013 - Vacation.

Here's my text:

Vacation 

It was an ordinary Saturday morning in the middle of August and still very hot in Central Virginia.  Olive Arbogast sat in her air-conditioned kitchen reading newspapers ads for last-minute air-trips to far off tropical islands and European capitals.

"Geoff dear, would you like to take a trip somewhere?" asked Olive.

"What kind of trip?" inquired Olive's husband sitting in the living room, hiding behind a copy of the Wall Street Journal.

"A vacation trip."

"No thanks, Olive. I'm fine right here."

"Barcelona is one of the ten most popular cities right now", replied Olive hoping to kindle some interest in travel in her tired spouse.

"I'm fine right here, dear" replied Geoffrey Arbogast, putting a lid on the topic.

But Olive continued to dream about vacations as she poured herself another cup of coffee. Vacation! What a word, thought Olive, as she let her mind drift back to childhood memories of every vacation trip that her family ever had gone on. Olive's mother came from Sweden and hated the hot Virginia summers. Her father doted on his wife by taking vacation trips during the short two weeks that he was free from his government job in D.C. They went north to escape the humid heat in a time before air-cooling in ordinary homes was available. Olive loved New England. She and her mother loved the cool summers of Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine. They went camping. Living in a tent, they could avoid expensive hotel bills. It was a wonderful way of being close to nature in forests that reminded her mother of Sweden.

Olive could not remember dates or exactly what year they did what. Memories of a dozen trips were all rolled into one. She remembered living in a tent in sunshine or rain. She was little enough not to have to carry much or help out with heavy chores. She had vague memories of staying at Lake Champlain in Vermont, and better memories of what it was like to camp at Baxter State Park and even bathing in the icy waters around Mount Desert Island, both in Maine. It was there, on Mount Desert Island, that her father took the whole family out for a lobster dinner at a very nice local restaurant. It was the first time she tasted steamed lobster with melted butter. Yummy. It was the one spot of luxury in days and days of damp sleeping bags and powdered soups. 

At the camping sites there were no real toilets, just dry closets. They did their business there or behind a bush when no one was looking. Olive remembered the gnats and mosquitoes. She used leaves instead of toilet paper. A small price to pay for a cool summer similar to a Swedish summer, and making her mother happy.

Vacations were not just for camping. Olive's parents took the time to visit relatives on their way to their campsites: Grandpa and Grandma White, older and younger uncles and aunts, and cousins. Cousins her age. As an only child, Olive always longed for siblings; a cousin was almost a sister or brother. But most of these people were now dead. Those who were children back then were now adults with families of their own. Olive missed her older relatives.

Olive missed her father too. She could still hear his kind, calm voice in her head: Daddy was always thinking of mother and how she suffered in the hot weather. How did I wind up staying in Central Virginia? Couldn't I have found someone in New England instead? Oh well. We do have air-conditioning now.

"Would you like to go camping in West Virginia?" asked Geoffrey from behind the Wall Street Journal, "The Northern Panhandle is supposed to be a lot cooler than here".

"Can we afford to take the time off?" called Olive from the kitchen, "And gas costs money."

"Sure, we can wing it. It's closer than driving all the way up to Northern New England, which is where I know you would really want to go. Would you like to stop by and visit your cousin who lives in Pittsburgh?"

"Yes, that would be nice. You're such a dear, Geoff."

Olive and Geoffrey Arbogast escaped the heat of Richmond, Virginia, for a time, by staying at a nice bed and breakfast in the Appalachian Mountains. Olive even got to visit her cousin, Julia. It was still searingly hot when they returned home, but Olive loved Geoffrey for his thoughtfulness.

Word count: 749 (NCCO)

This story is fictional. Any similarity to events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2013 Anna Christina Wigren Nordeman

Best wishes,
Anna










First Commenter:
Yolanda Renee
of
Defending the Pen