[Fiction] Friday Challenge #176 for Oct 8th, 2010

Prompt -The Main Character is a time traveler. He/She arrives at a destination but not all is as expected….

* I have written an open ending for the CYOA Time Warden series,  see my contribution below...

***



image sourced from ancientdigger.com



Selene landed awkwardly on top of Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s sarcophagus. She was not surprised that Bridie and May failed to appear. She could have guessed this would happen. She landed herself in a set up. Quickly she got to her feet and scouted the deserted tomb. Everything was just as she’d left it. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead as she reached into the Emperor’s robes to secure the Luna doll. The doll came out easily and Selene jumped over the river of mercury to the floor. Perspiration poured off her and pooled at her feet. She reached for the door but it burned red at her touch. She looked around; condensation dripped from the ceiling and streamed down the walls. In her haste she hadn’t noticed the normally darkened chamber glowed red with heat. She concentrated and tried slipping into a time crack. The vision blurred and she swayed on her feet: the heat made it impossible to focus. Time was running out and she panicked. Without warning the floor abruptly dropped out from beneath her and the world fragmented into a thousand different realities. Selene struggled to get a grip. The time continuum whirl pooled at an astronomical rate. A steep furious funnel swirled and sucked the Emperor’s tomb into non-existence. She tried to wrap her mind firmly around any one solid reality, but they slipped by too fast and she lost her touch. The funnel opening raced toward her and she could hear Cate’s laughter cut through the chaos as the vortex swallowed her. Imploding in an instant the lights timed out. Game over.

Selene kicked the machine hard, twice for effect.

Cate giggled, 'It's only a game.'

Selene turned to Cate. ‘Yeah just a game. You didn't say that when you lost!'

Cate pouted and Selene laughed, 'Come on, it’s time to go anyway.’

Cate clapped her hands, ‘Yay let’s get some ice-cream!’

‘Mum will be here soon.’

Cate's face fell, ‘But you promised...’

‘Ok, ok.’ Selene poked her kid sister in the ribs, ‘let’s get some ice-cream.’

***

How To Play:

1. Check this page for the weekly challenge.

2. Write for a minimum of 5 minutes… AND THEN KEEP GOING!

3. NO editing.

4. On Friday, post it to your blog.

5. Go back to Write Anything and leave the link to your post using the Link generator.

6. Visit other’s posts and leave constructive comments.

7. Use Twitter (with our hashtag of #fictionfriday) or Facebook etc to tell your network about the stories posted up.

8. Go back for more again next week

Australiana - poetry and prose



nicolas chevalier - the buffalo ranges


In the Australian forests no leaves fall.
The savage winds shout among the rock clefts.
The very animal life of these frowning hills is either grotesque or ghostly.

Great grey kangaroos hop noiselessly over the coarse grass.
Flight of white cockatoo’s stream out, shrieking like evil souls.

The sun suddenly sinks,
and the mopokes burst out into horrible peals of semi-huma laughter.

                          
...when night comes,

out of the bottomless depth of some lagoon the Bunyip rises,
and in a form like a monstrous sea-calf,
drags his loathsome length from out the ooze.

Marcus Clarke 1876, from Preface to Gordon's 'Poems'

Nana's Apple Crumble - The story about a woman who knew how to love...

Thump!


My eyes flew open and Hubby jumped beside me. The bedroom was dark and we both froze, waiting for another noise or an intruder to crash into our peaceful world. It was 5.35am and there should have been no-one else in the house.

Normally I would be frightened and Hubby would diligently search the house from top to bottom to reassure me. Things that go bump in the night have always made me nervous. This night however, a soothing calm washed over me and after some minutes had passed in silence, we both rolled over an instantly fell asleep.

The phone woke us an hour later. I climbed out of bed and noticed my handbag strewn across the bedroom floor. It had been sitting on the chest at the end of our bed the night before and as I answered the phone I vaguely remembered the "Thump" in the night.

My mother was on the other end of the line, and she was sobbing. Nana had died an hour before, at 5.35am.

Nana was buried on the 17th of December 2003, it was a scorching hot day. Before the graveside ceremony we visited the funeral home to say our last goodbyes. Being the first person close to me to die, this was my first experience with a viewing. No-one had thought to tell me not to touch her and in my grief I didn't think. I bent down and kissed her forehead, the icy coolness of her skin scarred me. Twelve months later when my Poppy died, I didn't go to the viewing.

Later at the lawn cemetery, I walked across the dry dusty car park blinded by my tears and stumbled, dropping my bag. Then a warm breeze lifted my damp hair off my shoulders and whispered in my ear. A soothing calm washed over me and I had the sudden thought that Nana was not gone at all. It was then that I remembered the "Thump" in the night. I turned to hubby, 'Do you think it was Nana who knocked my bag on the floor?'

Hubby lowered his head to mine, 'That's exactly what I've been thinking!'

Under the white marquee erected graveside, we found a seat amongst my many aunts and uncles and cousins and that was the moment when I decided to start trying for a baby.

Nana had twelve children and I grew up with over 30 immediate cousins. We lived in a small town and spent all of our spare time out on 'The Hill', my Nana and Poppy's sprawling fruit farm. Our life was a constant family get together, celebrating one special occasion after the other--I never had a moment to myself. After I left home I enjoyed the peace and quiet of my own company and had always thought I wouldn't have children.

Little did I know, all that was about to change. As I looked out over the sea of familiar faces-- each and everyone connected to my wonderful grandmother, not only by blood but with love-- for the first time in my life, I fully appreciated the wonderful upbringing I had been afforded.

Nana did not prescribe to any great philosophy or parenting technique, she simply loved each and every one of us like we were her favourite. She taught us how to cook, sew, knit, prune fruit trees, pick strawberries, plant flowers and play games. She was a great cook and remembered which sweet treat was our personal favourite and always made sure she had it fresh from the oven whenever we visited.

My favourite was always her apple crumble slice and sumptuously moist banana cake. Even after I left home and moved to the city for university, whenever I returned Nana would have both waiting for me.

A few weeks after the funeral my mother was visiting me and told me she had something for me. She handed me a tattered old notebook with half it's pages falling out and scrap bits of paper stuffed inside until it was fit for bursting. Nana's cookbook.

At the time I was touched and thought to myself that one day I would put the recipes in order, try them all out for myself and maybe write a cookbook about my wonderful Nana.

I fell pregnant with my son 18 months after Nana died and 18 months after that I gave birth to my daughter. To say the least, life got busy and five years have flown by. Hubby and I aim to raise our children simply and lovingly, embracing values that have withstood the test of time. Since the children were born I have tried and tried to imitate Nana's recipes and time and time again I have failed. I'm sure she's up there have a right old chuckle at my ineptitude.

But this story is not about me.I have been so fortunate to have strong capable women set fine examples of motherhood in my life and over the coming months I would love to share Nana's story via this blog, later to be compiled into a cookbook and life story for my extended family.

I do hope you have someone in your life that inspires you the way my Nana inspired me. Please click on the link so you too can enjoy Nana's Apple Crumble recipe.

Healing Stories

August has been and gone you say? Oops.

But lets not dwell, onto September. Spring has sprung. Lawnmowers are a buzzing, (the smell of fresh cut lawn is addictive don't you think?) jasmine and lavender are blossoming and I am off to a Steiner Education conference this weekend, woohoo.

Oh how I love everything Steiner, but not only that, the conference is in Byron Bay!! What a great way to spend a weekend, crafting and story telling all day then up to Brissy Saturday night for Riverfire!

So in honor of my inspiring weekend I have once again tried my hand at the Healing Story.

For those of you who don't know, last year I attended a week long Steiner conference and was lucky enough to win a spot in the Healing Stories workshop. A Healing Story is a story written with a particular issue in mind (such as grief, anger, stubbornness, selfishness etc.), for children and adults alike. The week was the sweetest, most beautiful week of creative companionship I have ever witnessed and the Healing Stories workshop was amazing. However, as hard as I tried, I failed to nail the art of the Healing Story.

I posted about the Healing Story way back then, but I did not share my dismay at my failure, and I most certainly have not shared the several dozen failed attempts since. However, just yesterday, whilst perusing the latest Star Weavings magazine  and inspired by my upcoming weekend I was struck with an idea. Like any good writer, I dropped everything (including the copy of Chinese Whisperings The Red Book that I was absorbed in) and dashed inside to grab a note book (yes, I still use pen and paper for the first draft/idea, there's something about the process of channelling thoughts from my brain, down my arm and out through a pen onto the paper that is cathartic). After the paper draft was transferred to computer I found myself with the first ever Healing Story that I was happy enough with that I am brave enough to share it. So please, if you don't like it, shut up! In this instance, feedback is not welcome-- OK maybe in a few days, just don't kill my buzz straight away. Here it is

The Golden Gift

By Tanya Bell*

A long, long time ago, there lived a Kind King and a Queen and the Kingdom they ruled was happy and prosperous. The farmers in the kingdom harvested abundant crops of grain, the fishermen in the kingdom caught an abundance of fish and the families in the village shared their abundance with everyone.

One day, after a particularly hot summer, the Kind King and Queen received a visit from the farmers.
‘Oh dear Kind King, oh dear Kind Queen, our dams are dry and our crops are low. We do not have enough to share, whatever shall we do?’
The Kind King and Queen smiled at the farmers, ‘Oh dear farmers, our rivers are rich with fish, do not worry, our fishermen will share their bounty.’
The farmers thanked the Kind King and Queen and those that were able went out on the rivers to help the fishermen. The Kind King and Queen and retired to their thrones satisfied that happiness was restored.

Some weeks passed and after a particularly dry winter, the Kind King and Queen received a visit from the fishermen.
‘Oh dear Kind King, oh dear Kind Queen, the farmers came to us for help, but our rivers are dry and our fish are low. We do not have enough to share, whatever shall we do?’
The Kind King and Queen smiled at the fishermen, ‘Oh dear fishermen, our village shops are full, do not worry, our families will share their bounty.’
The fishermen thanked the Kind King and Queen and those that were able went out into the village to help the families. The Kind King and Queen and retired to their thrones satisfied that happiness was restored.

Some months passed, and after another particularly hot summer and an even dryer winter, the Kind King and Queen received a visit from the families’.
‘Oh dear Kind King, oh dear Kind Queen, the farmers and fishermen came to us for help, but the crops are low, the fish are low and our shops are low. We do not have enough to share, whatever shall we do?’
The Kind King and Queen smiled at the Families’, ‘Oh dear friends, our Palace is rich, do not worry, we shall share the bounty.’
The families’ thanked the Kind King and Queen and those that were able visited the Palace daily. The Kind King and Queen retired to their thrones satisfied that happiness was restored.

As time passed, word of the Kind King and Queen’s generosity spread and soon the farmers visited the Palace daily, as did the fishermen, as did the families’.
Each day the Kind King greeted his subjects graciously and each day the Queen noticed something peculiar. In the first week laughter was forgotten. In the second week, smiles were forgotten. In the third week manners were forgotten. At the end of the first month, the Queen noticed that Kindness had been forgotten.

The Kind Queen decided she must speak to the Kind King.
‘Oh dear Kind King, our Palace is rich but our subjects do not share. I fear Kindness has been forgotten. Whatever shall we do?’
The Kind King smiled at the Kind Queen, ‘Oh dear Kind Queen, our neighbours are Gentle, do not worry. They shall know what to do.’
The Kind Queen thanked the Kind King and retired to her throne and the very next morning the Kind King set off to visit with the neighbouring Gentle Kingdom.

The Kind King took several weeks to travel to the Gentle Kingdom as it was a very far away. Back home the Kind Queen watched in dismay as the farmers become impatient and pushed the fishermen out of the way. The fishermen became very cross and they shoved the families to the back of the line. The families got very upset and started shouting and crying. The Kind King was taking so very long to return; soon even the Kind Queen began to feel very cross.

At long last the Kind King arrived at the Gentle Kingdom but to his dismay, he found that they too had been going through a hot summer and dry winter. The Gentle Kingdom had nothing left to share. However, as the Kind King passed through the Gentle village he was greeted graciously by every person he passed and with each person the Kind King noticed something peculiar. Laughter filled the streets, smiles shone on the subjects faces and their manners sounded ever so sweet.

The Kind King decided he must speak with the Gentle King, ‘Oh dear Gentle King, our Palace is rich but our subjects do not share and I fear Kindness has been forgotten. Whatever shall we do?’
The Gentle King smiled at the Kind King, ‘Oh dear Kind King, do not worry. Kindness is never far away.’
The Gentle King handed the Kind King a pair of beautiful golden balls, ‘Take this Golden gift and hold them in your hands. Listen to the sound of sweet bells ringing; listen to the kindness within your heart and feel the kindness warm your hands. Share this gift with your Kingdom and soon happiness will be restored.’

The Kind King thanked the Gentle King and set off on the long journey home, all the while holding the Golden gift in his hands. He listened to the sound of sweet bells ringing; he listened to the kindness in his heart; he felt the kindness warm his hands but still he did not know what to do!

At long last the Kind King arrived home and to his dismay he found an angry mob gathered in the Palace courtyard. The farmers pushed at the fishermen, the fishermen shoved at the families and the families shouted and cried in protest.

The Kind King decided he must speak with the Kind Queen, ‘Oh dear Kind Queen, our Gentle neighbours could not offer us abundance; instead the Gentle King offered only wisdom. Whatever shall we do?’
The Kind King handed the Kind Queen the Golden gift. The Kind Queen took the two beautiful golden balls and she listened to the sound of sweet bells ringing. She listened to the kindness in her heart; she felt the kindness warm her hands and she knew just what to do!

The Kind Queen smiled at the Kind King, ‘Oh dear Kind King, our farmers are good, our fishermen are good and our families are good. We shall share our Golden gift and happiness will be restored.’
The Kind King thanked the Kind Queen and retired to the courtyard.

Quietly the Kind King walked amongst his subjects and passed the golden gift into a farmer’s hands. The farmer stopped pushing for a moment and held the two beautiful golden balls. He listened to the sound of sweet bells ringing; he listened to the kindness in his heart; he felt the kindness warm his hands. The farmer smiled at the Kind King and turned to share the Golden gift with a fisherman standing nearby. As the Golden gift passed from hand to hand, the music of the sweet bells caused the subjects to pause and smile. The farmers stopped pushing, the fishermen stopped shoving and the families stopped shouting and crying.
At long last the Kind Kingdom remembered Kindness. The Golden gift worked its magic from hand to heart, restoring happiness all around the courtyard just as the Gentle King had promised.
With happiness restored the Kind King and Queen retired to their thrones and to this day, the Golden gift is still being passed from hand to hand, spreading kindness all over the world. If you’re very lucky, you might find the Golden gift passed along into your hands one day.

Copyright T.Bell 2010

*Inspiration for this story came from 'The Kindness Ball' an article by Barbara Klocekin Star Weaving #44, a newsletter of the Australian Association for Rudolf Steiner Early Childhood Education, avenuesforchange@gmail.com