Friday, August 28, 2009

Gone ~ an acrostic

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

Marc's prompt was "Gone". I decided to try my hand at an acrostic. A bit of a cheat, since 'gone' is such a short word, but I thought I'd start out small.

* * *


Give me back the days of music when
Once upon a time you sang to me.
Now there is nothing but
Eerie silence that swallows me whole.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Powdered Addiction ~ a haiku

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

* * *

Powdered Addiction

reddened amber eyes
watch as white lines disappear
blinded by false joy

The Eyes of Love ~ a haiku

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

* * *

The Eyes of Love

eyes flowing with love
gazed with warmth at the wedding
now kill on command

A Dream to Behold ~ Chapter Three

Today's muse: Protagonize

* * *

B is for Bezaldar

The entire group of children was silent as they digested this information, the hush hovering for nearly ten seconds. Then everyone began talking at once, panicked voices shouting questions, demanding answers.

“What do you mean ‘he’s back’?”

“Who’s back?”

Philip glanced up at his friend, who appeared to have lost the capacity to speak. Billy simply stood there, his mouth convulsively opening and closing. He looked down at Philip imploringly, as if to say “You tell them.”

Sighing, Philip turned and faced the children, each one of them staring hopefully at him as though he had the answer; as though he was their salvation.

Just as he had stood, he realized, almost seven years ago, staring wide-eyed at Jeremy Weizman who had held up his G.I. Joe action figure for all to see, before passing it around for inspection. When the toy reached Philip’s hands, he had carefully turned it over, saw the B etched into Joe’s back. There were green flakes wedged in the crevice then, too. The same green flakes he had just seen on Teddy’s button eye.

Soon after that, strange things began happening in the neighbourhood.

At first, they were small incidents, inconsequential really. Since there was no explanation for these mysterious acts, the adults simply meted out retribution to the children who, in their view, were obviously to blame.

Cameron Trawley was sent to his room when his mother discovered the empty cookie jar. Lizzy Ilkes was grounded for a week when her parents saw her room: the bedspread was tossed on the floor, books were strewn everywhere and dirty clothes simply lay in a pile beside the door. Quite possibly the worst incident was Nick Marchant being suspended from school because he didn’t hand in his homework for a month.

The thing was, Philip knew these kids, was good friends with them. He knew that Cam didn’t eat those cookies—he hated oatmeal. Lizzy was always meticulous about keeping her room clean which, everyone agreed, was pretty weird for a six-year old, but still didn’t really explain how it became so dishevelled. As for Nick, he kept insisting something was eating his homework—and they didn’t even have a dog.

The occurrences began to happen more frequently, driving the adults to become fanatical in their punishments. It wasn’t long before the playground was often seen empty and sleepovers were a thing of the past.

Philip remembered all too well what it was like last time. How bad it got. And now it was starting all over again. There was no question …

Bezaldar was back.

Petals of Fate

Today's muse: Pictures, Poetry and Prose

Prompt: Write a poem of no more than five-lines

* * *

Petals of Fate

Innocent little petals,
plucked one by one
in search of the eternal answer,
shatter dreams when they reply:
He loves me not.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009


Today's muse: Protagonize

The rules: Select a word to be the title of your 11-line poem. The last word of each line must be a word of no less than four letters created using letters from the title of your poem. (Note: For the record, I want to point out that this was not easy, but was a lot of fun. I failed at my first attempt by using three-letter words. Following directions has never been my forte).

* * *


“He partied at a festival, was filled with great elation,
and staggered out knowing he was too filled with libation;
his drunkenness forgotten—completely in denial.”
screamed the burly big-shot lawyer hired for the trial.

“If this man had only thought, used only half his brain,
that woman’d be alive now, and we would not detain.
Instead I’m here before you; my temper in a rile.
In fact, I must pause now, to swallow down my bile.”

The prosecution rests, no longer does berate.
The drunkard sits and waits while the jury does debate.

The verdict’s in, the man has sinned, the public does elate.

A Long Way Down

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

* * *

A Long Way Down

The Locator stood before him, an imposing man of some several thousand years, a tightly rolled scroll held reverently in his hands.

“Do you know why you are here today, Thelanon?”

His eyes downcast, the boy nodded mutely. The Locator nodded, allowing the mere hint of a smile. “Very well, then.”

The golden flecks embedded in the parchment glinted as the Locator unfurled the scroll and read the Decree.

“It has come to pass that the spirit named Thelanon shall make The Voyage and be one with a Being, acting as Spirit Guide and Moral Counsellor, until such time his journey shall end. And so it shall be.”

“And so it shall be,” repeated Thelanon, his eyes glowing with excitement.

The Locator unsheathed his jewel-encrusted sword—a ceremonial blade passed down through generations—and tapped Thelanon’s shoulders. As he chanted the age-old words that would complete the transformation, a golden dome glowed around the boy, enveloping him like a shield, pulsing with energy. Thelanon could feel the power fill him, spread through every part of his being, like a great tidal wave. He had waited his entire life for this moment.

When the ceremony was complete, he raised himself, standing tall, his young back erect and strong. He slowly raised his eyes to The Locator, surprised to see the elder grinning at him. Thelanon grinned back, then rushed forward to be enveloped in the open arms.

“I will miss you, uncle.” His voice was muffled against the old man’s tunic.

“I will watch over you, Thelanon. You may not always feel me. It is, after all, a long way down, but know that I will watch over you as you, in turn, will Guard your Being.”

With one final embrace, Thelanon stepped back and looked into the wise grey eyes that had watched over him these many years. He offered a smile to demonstrate his courage, then he was suddenly gone.

The Locator smiled quietly to himself, a little envious of the adventure on which Thelanon was about to embark.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Seven

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

* * *

Chapter 7

Walking along the gravel drive, Carol surveyed the car, taking in the sleek lines, practically melting at the convertible top.

“I heard you bought the Miller’s old car.” She smiled at Billy’s frown. “Word travels fast in a small town.”

To his relief, Carol slowly nodded her approval. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath, was nervous about her reaction. Oddly, he realized, her opinion mattered quite a bit to him.

Leaning into the engine compartment, they gazed at the various components together. “Holy cow, Mr. Miller sure keeps his cars clean,” she marvelled.

Billy nodded in agreement, caressing the air hose. “Mr. Miller said she has the J-2 option package which ...”

“Which gives her 300 horsepower instead of the stock 277,” Carol interrupted. “With the V8, she’s going to go like smoke.”

Billy slowly turned his head, dumbstruck. “I didn’t know you knew all that junk,” he said, awed.

She grinned mischievously, moving around the car. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Billy Peterson,” she added airily and, opening the passenger door, she sat inside, adjusting the side mirror. “With the top down, I bet it feels like you’re flying.” Raising her arms straight up, she closed her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips and, tipping her head back, she imagined driving along a quiet road, the wind blowing her hair wildly behind her.

Billy felt a drop in his stomach then, like cresting a hill a little too fast. She looked fabulous sitting in his car like that; it skewed everything. Opening her eyes, Carol saw Billy staring at her, an odd expression on his face. Suddenly self-conscious, she brought her arms down, wrapping them around her waist, and stared at the floor.

Billy came around and sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands as though it was a life preserver. Glancing over at Carol, he noticed she had a streak of grease on her arm. It was obvious she had seen it—it ran the length of her forearm. He marvelled at the fact that she hadn’t made a big to-do over it like other girls, running home to wash it off, possibly changing her entire outfit. Come to think of it, she was never fussed about her clothes. Instead, she was comfortable in cropped pants and a loose shirt, ready for the next venture at a moment’s notice. Darn if she didn’t make that simple outfit look sexy.

And what was that smell, he wondered. Billy leaned a little closer, breathing in her scent. Earthy with a slight floral hint, he decided. It smelled heavenly to him and he closed his eyes, enjoying the fragrance, smiling to himself. It occurred to him that his dad was right. It wasn’t just anyone that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. It should be someone that you’re comfortable with and want to spend time with. Someone you can laugh with, who is your friend. Someone you love.

Billy’s stomach dropped again. Love. He rolled the word around in his head, let it sit there a moment. Love. It flowed through him, warming every part of him. Huh, he thought, isn’t that something. Sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.

Or next door.

Suddenly aware that the silence had gone on too long, Billy shook himself, clearing his throat awkwardly. Carol took this as a dismissal, embarrassed she had overstayed her welcome, and grasped the door handle, prepared to leave.

Billy grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

Chapter eight to be added soon.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Weapon of Choice

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

* * *

Weapon of Choice

In the beginning there was love,
and it was good.
Man and woman lived together in paradise,
not ashamed of their nakedness.

Then came the serpent,
who slithered and hissed,
beckoned, lured, enticed.

Worn proudly on her left hand,
the crimson bauble shone for all.
That plump red orb changed everything.

The apple begat the rules;
The rules begat the punishment;
The punishment begat the shouting;
The shouting begat the humiliation;
The humiliation begat the beating.

But the spirit of David grew within her, and
brandishing her sword,
she slew Goliath.
Nevermore to be a slave,
but to forever be a warrior.


Sunday, August 16, 2009

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Six

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

* * *

Chapter 6

When Billy pulled into the driveway, his father was waiting for him. “Andy Miller called me already. Told me that you’d bought his old Rocket.” Donald Peterson, barely containing his excitement, wandered around the car, much the same way his son had. “She’s a beauty!” he pronounced, echoing Billy’s words.

Examining the engine together, father and son leaned as one, shoulders touching. After much discussion and debate, Don clapped his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “You made a fine choice, son,” he said with a grin. “So what’s going to be your first destination?”

Billy shrugged, not quite successful in his attempt at appearing casual. “I thought I’d go to the Blowout tonight.”

Don nodded his approval. “Good choice. Show her off. Are you taking anyone special?”

Billy sighed. Oh, how he wanted to ask Susan Andrews. Surely she’d go with him now. He had a great car, she couldn’t possibly say no. Of course, she’d probably already have a date, the Blowout was in a few hours, after all.

“No. I don’t have anyone to go with,” he muttered.

“But you had someone in mind,” as though he read Billy’s thoughts. It was a statement, rather than a question. Billy nodded.


“It doesn’t matter,” Billy shrugged, “she’s not interested in me anyway.”

To his credit, Don kept a straight face. “Son,” he said, slowly shaking his head, “it’s not easy finding the right girl, someone you want to share the rest of your life with. You want to take your time, choose carefully.” Billy glanced up at his father, a quizzical look on his face.

“When your mother came along,” Don explained, “she made me laugh and she laughed at my silly jokes. We would talk for hours, or just sit quietly together. We just ... you know ... clicked.” He shrugged, knowing he wasn’t explaining himself well. “You’ll know when it happens.”

“But when will it happen?” Billy cried, impatiently.

“Some things are just worth waiting for.” Don glanced up, hearing the crunch of the gravel drive. “Like that,” he added with a wink, nodding his head towards the girl walking down the walk.

“I think I hear your mother calling me,” he muttered and walked towards the house.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

The Question

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

* * *

The Question

When the day comes
that I make the Great Voyage
to listen to the angels sing

I will meet St. Peter
and ask one question:
“Do I look fat in these wings?”

Friday, August 14, 2009

Wrongfully Accused

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

* * *

Wrongfully Accused

For the theft of four oatmeal cookies
Charlie sits alone with his thoughts
Sentenced by Mom to sit in the corner
While the dog grins and licks his chops

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Five

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

* * *

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter 5

It was busy at Miller’s Grocery Store—typical for a Saturday—which was fine with Billy. It was making the day fly by and, as far as he was concerned, it couldn’t go fast enough. He simply couldn’t wait for the end of the day.

Darryl Miller watched from his office, impressed with Billy’s maturity and confidence. He assisted customers, greeting them by name, chatting easily with the adults. He heard nothing but good words about Billy, how polite and helpful he was, how he was a great asset to the family-run business. Darryl agreed whole-heartedly. Which is why he felt compelled to do something for Billy. He was a good kid, he thought, who deserved a break.

At the end of his shift, Billy untied his apron and hung it in the back storeroom. As he was about to leave, Mr. Miller approached him, wrapping a fatherly arm around his shoulders.

“Billy,” he said, “I know you’ve been wanting a car for a while. Turns out my brother wants to get a new car for the missus. She wants a new Jetfire.” Darryl rolled his eyes. “Red,” he added, spitting out the word in disdain. Billy grinned, thinking about Mr. Miller’s simple black sedan.

“I saw the ad in the paper.”

“Now what he’s selling isn’t new, mind you,” Darryl cautioned, not wanting to get the boy’s hopes too high, “but she’ll be just fine for you, I think.” Giving Billy a dismissive pat on the shoulder, he added “I told him you’d be by after work. I made him promise not to sell it before you had a look.”

Billy grasped Mr. Miller’s hand and pumped it vigorously. “Thank you, sir!” Darryl chuckled as he watched Billy ride off, pedalling feverishly.

When Billy arrived at the Miller farm, Andrew Miller was waiting for him. Wiping his hands on an old rag, he met Billy at the front porch. Recognizing the excitement in Billy’s eyes, Andy figured on waiving the niceties of asking him in for some lemonade, despite the fact that he knew his wife would take him to task for it later.

Waving the rag towards the barn in invitation, he ambled over with Billy, chatting about school, work and, of course, cars. Andy remembered all too well what it meant to be a teenager and own a car. Which is why he’d already decided that he’d price it to sell.

Sliding the barn door open, Andy let Billy wander in. It was obvious the boy was pleased. He walked slowly around the gold-tone ’57 Rocket, taking in the chrome, the sleek lines, running his hand lightly along the back fin. A grin split his face as he looked up at Andy.

“She’s a beauty,” he whispered reverently.

Andy nodded in agreement. “That she is, son, that she is.”

“But…” Billy was sure this was out of his price range. She was in pristine condition, not a mark on her. “How much?” He swallowed thickly, afraid to hear the answer, having already fallen in love with the car.

Andy folded his arms, waited a beat, then named a figure. Billy wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. That couldn’t be it, she was worth so much more.

“Too much?” asked Andy.

“No, sir!” breathed Billy. “I’ll get you the money on Monday. I’ll go to the bank and…” his words jumbled together, tumbling over each other.

Andy held up his hands, laughing. “I trust you, Billy.” Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, he tossed them to Billy. “Take her home now. Don’t you have somewhere to go tonight?”

Stunned, Billy looked down at the keys, then up at Andy. “Your bike will fit in the trunk,” Andy nodded encouragingly. He laughed quietly has he loaded Billy’s bicycle into the back, pushing the trunk closed.

Standing on the front porch, he watched Billy drive away, lost in his own memories of teenage years. He heard the screen door creek open, then slam shut behind him.

“Now why didn’t you ask that nice Billy Peterson in for lemonade?” Nancy Miller stood beside him, wiping her hands on her apron. Andy glanced over at his wife, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Do you remember when I first bought that car?” Nancy nodded, smiling wistfully.

“It was a warm summer day,” she sighed. “The top was down, and we just drove around, enjoying the countryside.”

“And?” her husband prompted, nudging her with his hip.

“And you proposed to me,” she replied, laughing, holding up her hand so the light glinted off the set of rings. “Do you suppose the old Rocket will bring Billy the same luck?”

Andy shrugged. “You can’t change what’s meant to be,” he said, knowingly. “Sometimes fate just takes over.”

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Four

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

* * *

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter 4

At the breakfast table, Billy sat with his head in his hands, contemplating the pile of toast sitting before him. He wasn’t hungry. He’d told his mother that. But she insisted anyway.

“You need to eat something,” Doris Peterson admonished, as she nudged the plate towards him. They sat together in silence at the kitchen table while Billy tore his toast into small pieces and Doris pretended to read the Saturday newspaper. She paged idly through the weekly, knowing that her son would talk to her when he was ready, sensing he needed to make the first move.

She watched Billy as his facial expressions revealed his thoughts. It was obvious he was reliving the events of the past week again in his mind, each humiliating moment dancing before him in vivid Technicolor.

It all came down to the car, Billy concluded. He seemed to be the only one without one. Which was fine when you were hanging out with the whole gang. But when you wanted to go to the drive-in with a girl, have some time alone, it was best to have your own wheels.

The problem was, he just couldn’t find one he could afford and, more importantly, one he wouldn’t be embarrassed to pick up a girl in. Which is why he’d been working at Miller’s grocery store, restocking shelves after school every night and every day this summer. He’d been socking away money every week and he had quite a nest egg now.

His fantasy—which he played out every night before falling asleep—was to cruise up to a girl’s house (it was always Susan’s) and idle at the end of the walk. She would rush out, her skirt flouncing around her, hair pinned high atop her head. He’d have his arm casually slung over the seat of the car, with a surly James Dean look about him and she would swoon all over him.

Doris glanced up, catching Billy’s wistful smile. As she was about to turn the page, a notice in the classifieds caught her eye. Reading through the ad, she smiled quietly to herself. Carefully folding the newspaper to reveal the small square of print, she turned it around so that Billy could read it, pushed it a little forward then stood up to leave. Walking around the table she ran a hand across Billy’s shoulder. “It will get better, son,” she murmured, and left him alone in the kitchen.

He sighed and pushed the plate of toast away, glancing up at the kitchen clock. He had thirty minutes or so before he had to leave for work. Pulling the discarded newspaper towards him, he began to unfold it when the carefully folded square came into focus. He read through it—twice—blinking several times to be sure he was reading it correctly. Then, shouting a quick farewell to his mother, he jumped on his bicycle and rode to work.

Doris allowed herself a satisfied grin. She didn’t think he’d continue moping for long.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Three

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

* * *

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter 3

Carol wandered back home, kicking at the loose rocks on the walkway, muttering incoherently about stupid boys and cheap girls. She slipped into the house through the kitchen door and was surprised to see her mother standing at the stove.


Linda Freeman glanced over her shoulder. “I thought you went over to see Billy.”

Carol shrugged without answering. “What are you making?” she asked, nodding towards the stove.

Linda sighed, turning back to the stove. “Oh, I couldn’t sleep. Thought some warm milk might help. Would you like some?”

Thinking it could only help, Carol accepted the offer and pulled two mugs from the cupboard, setting them near her mother on the counter. Making herself comfortable at the kitchen table, she idly watched her mother stir the milk.

What did Billy see in that horrid Susan Andrews anyway? She was nothing but a floozy!

“What, dear?” Her mother’s question drew her back. Oh my! Did she say that out loud? Gnawing on her lip, Carol contemplated confiding in her mother. She might be able to shed some light on the mystery of boys. God only knew she couldn’t figure it out on her own.

“Mom…” she began haltingly. When the obligatory ‘Hmmm?’ was returned, Carol willed herself to speak, wondering what her mother would think, or if she’d even give a suitable answer.

“How do you get a guy to notice you?” The question was barely a whisper.

Linda was grateful her back was turned so her daughter didn’t see her knowing smile. Gathering her thoughts, Linda busied herself pouring the warmed milk into mugs. Setting one in front of her daughter, and pulling the other closer to herself, she sat across from Carol.

“Are we talking about a friend, or someone sitting in this very kitchen?”

Carol rolled her eyes, unable to suppress the grin or the blush.

“Someone in this kitchen,” she muttered into her mug.

Linda took a sip of milk, gazing at her daughter over the rim. The pained expression on Carol’s face nearly broke her heart; Linda remembered all too well what the first spasms of love felt like at that tender age.

“There’s this girl at school—Susan Andrews,” explained Carol, “And all the boys are just falling all over themselves when she walks by. She wears these big flouncy skirts and cheap perfume and far too much makeup!” Carol flicked a hand in the air. “And she has enormous…”

Holding her hands in front of her for emphasis, Carol looked down at her own meagre chest and sighed, dropping her hands limply onto the table.

Linda gave a small cough to cover up the laughter that bubbled out. “Well,” she cleared her throat, “it has been my experience that girls like that seldom get their man.” When Carol raised her eyebrows in a disbelieving expression, Linda waved her hand. “No, no. I’m speaking from experience, young lady. His eye may wander, but it will finally come to rest on you. Just be yourself. If he’s worth it, he’ll come around.”

Getting up from the table, Linda walked around and kissed the top of her daughter’s head, giving her shoulders a firm squeeze.

“And it’ll be worth the wait,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Two

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

* * *

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter 2

As the footsteps approached the porch where he sat, and entered the semi-circle dimly lit by the light spilling through the living room window, he recognized Carol Freeman, his next-door-neighbour. Friends since the first grade, they had grown up together, whiling away summer days fishing at Jackson’s Pond using pilfered hot dog wieners as bait, and spending summer nights camped out in the backyard, sharing dreams and confiding secrets. Although lately their time spent together was less frequent, the strength of their friendship had not faded.

Carol sat down beside him on the step, not saying anything for a while, then, softly: “I heard what happened.”

Billy nodded, knowing that Carol was the one friend he could talk to, knew she wouldn’t laugh no matter what he said. Slowly, painfully, he told her everything that had happened; his voice becoming a mumble when he told her how broken he felt after Susan cut him down.

Carol quietly slipped her hand inside Billy’s, offering her silent remorse, as only a good friend can do. Her hand was warm and dry in his, soothing him, as they sat in silence. It was some time before Billy was suddenly aware that the tightness in his chest had faded and that he didn’t feel so alone right now.

Carol is a good person, he mused, gazing at their linked fingers. The guys poked fun at him because they were friends, but they didn’t understand. It was actually easier to talk to Carol about most things than it was to talk to one of the guys—she really listened. Not to mention that she offered a viewpoint that his friends couldn’t give him. Which meant…

“What do girls want?” he turned to her suddenly, the pain obvious in his voice. Before Carol could answer, he rushed on. “I mean, I try to be like James Dean but...”

Carol suppressed a smile. There was nothing James Dean-like about Billy. He was as clean-cut as they came: his jeans were smartly pressed, he kept his shirt tucked in neatly, his sneakers were always spotless and his hair was, at all times, trimmed above his ears and slicked back. Dependable, is what everyone called him. She just thought of him as her Billy.

“Every girl wants a dangerous guy, right?” he asked eagerly.

Sighing, she disentangled her hand from his, patted his knee and stood up. “No, Billy. Not every girl,” she murmured quietly, struggling to mask her disappointment, and walked back into the darkness.

Billy dropped his head in his hands, more confused than ever.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter One

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

* * *

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter One

In hindsight, asking Susan Andrews to the End-of-Summer Blowout was probably not a good idea. He should have waited until he’d actually bought a car before asking Susan out, rather than just telling her he was getting one. Instead, Billy Peterson had blurted it out right there in front of everyone in the parking lot at the soda shop.

She was sitting on the hood of Jack Winter’s new DeSoto. Well, it was new to Jack; it used to be his dad’s. Sure, there was a little rust here and there, but it rode just fine and it was Jack’s. What did Billy have? Nothing, that’s what.

But he did have gumption. Which he doggedly mustered up to casually lean against Jack’s rusty old second-hand DeSoto and, toying with the hem of her skirt that was teasingly splayed out to just within reach of his hand, asked Susan if she’d go to the Blowout with him. Susan looked down at him, snatching her skirt out of his reach as though he were some beggar, and spat out “On what? Your bicycle?!” She laughed loudly at him—as did everyone else—although he did catch a few of the guys flinching.

He jumped on his bike and pedalled home furiously, fuelled by his anger, chased all the way home by Susan’s snide remarks.

Alone, he sat on the front step for hours, gazing up at the stars, sending up futile wishes to the heavens. The Blowout was next week and he had nothing. No girl, no car and no hope for either.

Completely dejected, Billy sighed and stood up, brushing his pants clean, ready to go inside, when he heard the crunching of distinctly female footsteps on the drive.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Wheels in Motion

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

* * *

Wheels in Motion

The summer of ’62 is coming to a close. Billy Peterson has been working hard to save enough money to buy his dream car, but with the End-of-Summer Blowout quickly approaching, and no hopes of finding a car, the last hurrah seems to be fizzling out.

Things are looking up, though, as the Wheels of Fate are set in motion.