The Smelly Jewel Caper

Today's Monday's Muse prompt from Wake Up Your Muse is: He stuffed the bag of jewels inside the fish, wrapped it and put it into the freezer

Here's my story using the prompt...

The Smelly Jewel Caper

Photo courtesy enricomaria,
rgbstock.com

Griff slit the rock bass open along it's belly, dug out all the innards, then stuffed the plastic baggie full of jewels into the cavity. He wrapped the fish in clean white freezer paper, taped it shut with masking tape and wrote "Rock Bass" on the front, then threw it in the back of the freezer, piling the rest of the frozen goods in front of it.

"We're almost there, Duke," he said to the old hound dog lying in front of the screen door.

Fishing had been great lately and his catch was piling up. Soon he would have enough to buy that boat he'd always wanted and spend the rest of his life on the open seas instead of trolling the waters around his shack in the Everglades.

One more heist ought to do it and then he'd take his haul down to Shady Sam's hideout and sell them.

Footsteps on creaky boards outside startled him.

"Griff, you in there?" came a voice from his front stoop.

"Who's there?" he called, reaching for his shotgun.

He kicked the dog outta his way. "Thanks alot for the warning, you mangy mutt!"

"It's the sheriff, Griff. You better come on out of there."

Griff reconsiderd, sat his shotgun behind the door and stepped out onto the rickkety porch.

"What can i do for ya, Sheriff?" he asked.

The sheriff eyed Griff hard and steady for a minute. Griff shuffled uneasily back and forth, ran his fingers through his unwashed hair, then smoothed down his wirey beard.

"I hear you been pullin' in more than your limit, Griff," said the Sheriff. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to confiscate your catch."

Griff knew the jig was up. Sheriff Roscoe was no fool. If he knew about the fish, he knew about the jewels and Griff knew better than to mess with this Sheriff. Many a fisherman had become gator bait by crossin' Sheriff Roscoe Black. He was as crooked as a dog's hind leg.

Griff stepped aside as the sheriff opened the screen door and crossed the room to the old refrigerator. He emptied the contents of the freezer into a burlap bag he'd brought with him, climbed in his jeep and then drove away, taking Griff's dreams with him.

"Consarn it!" he muttered. "That'll set me back a bit."

Duke gave him a questioning look.

"Well, at least he didn't get the stuff we stashed in the outhouse, did he, boy?" Griff said.

He reached down and nudged the old hound, who had found a another place to lay.

"Come on, boy. Let's go fishin'. I hear they're hittin' pretty good in Key Largo."


For more fun writing prompts go the prompt generator at WakeUpYourMuse.com
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(Copyright© 2012 Jan Christiansen. All rights reserved.)

100 Word Faith Filled Fiction Challenge

Kelly Martin over at Faith Filled Fiction post a picture prompt ever Friday. I love these, because they stretch my imaginations. Here's the latest picture and the story I wrote.

photo courtesy Jennifer Ellison, freedigitalphotos.net

Lindsay pulled her X357 hover craft to a dead stop. Floating just a couple of feet above the water she could see Zylon off in the distance. Home. She swore she’d never return, yet here she was, just 30 seconds off-shore.

Trex was the only one who could have coaxed her home and he’d succeeded with his e-summons. “The revolution has begun!”

She fired up the craft, threw it into hyper-drive and sped toward her destiny. For Zylon, for Trex and for the baby they’d buried there. She would live or die in Zylon and she really didn’t care which.

(exactly 100 words!)

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(Copyright© 2012 Jan Christiansen. All rights reserved.)

Seekerville Challenge - My story with critique.

I participated in a Seekerville writing challenge this week and received a critique from author, Ruth Logan Hearne.

She gave us a writing prompt and asked us to add a few more paragraphs.  Here's the prompt...

Her feet refused to move. The old mansion gazed back at her, challenging her to step forward.

photo courtesy  Ayla87, rgbstock.com

She couldn't. Maybe wouldn't. In any case, she'd been wrong to come here, wrong to think anything had changed, wrong to imagine anything but heartache behind those doors. She turned, willing her feet to obey, but the sound of a door latch paused her.

The house was empty. Wasn't it? Unless the letter writer had been mistaken, unless...

She turned back, not wanting to see, but needing to know. And the moment she did, she recognized her undoing.

Here's what I added...

“Abby?” Luke Snyder bounded down the steps and jogged across the yard, stopping just inches in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered, “Welcome home, Abby, I’ve missed you.”

She felt the familiar rush of emotions. Feelings she thought she had squelched with leaving Woodsfield, but there they were, rising up in her throat, choking her words. She untangled herself from his embrace. “L-luke, what are you doing here?”

He turned to look at the house. “I bought the old place,” he said. His tone was light, but she could hear the tension in his voice. “I’m fixing her up. You want to have a look?”

“Bought it?” she muttered, unable to wrap her mind around the idea. Luke knew what had happened here. He had been the one who had found her hiding under the bed. The one who had coaxed her out of her hiding place and walked her out of the house. How could he possibly want to live in this nightmare that was once her home?

She was wrong to have come here. No matter what her sister’s letter had said, she couldn’t do it. Facing her fears had never been her way of handling things. Avoidance had always been her safe-haven.

She had run from her past, from this house and from Luke ten years ago and she was ready to do it again.

“I have to go.” She turned to put the key in the door of her Volvo parked at the curb. Luke reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, then turned her to face him. Lifting her chin, he forced her to look him in the eye. His voice was soft, “Abby, you can do this. We’ll do it together.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. Together. That’s the way Abby had always imagined her life - she and Luke together, but too much had happened. Too much sorrow, too much betrayal. She dropped her gaze and shook her head, “I can’t, Luke.”

“You have to stay, Abby,” He said, lifting her chin again until she looked him in the eye. "There’s something you don’t know about what happened that day.”

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Here's the story again with changes suggested by Ruthy...


Abby?” Luke Snyder bounded down the steps and jogged across the yard, stopping just inches in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered, “Welcome home, Abby, I’ve missed you.”

She felt the familiar rush of emotions. Feelings she thought she had squelched with leaving Woodsfield, but there they were, rising up in her throat, choking her words.

Ruthy note: Jan, nice sense of immediacy! He’s bounding and jogging, she’s feeling a ‘rush of emotions… Very nice!

I might suggest changing “She felt” to something less passive like: “Emotions rushed her.” Or “Emotions engulfed her”… or “Emotions she’d long ago dismissed rushed back, waves she’d squelched when she left Woodsfield…etc.”

She untangled herself from his embrace. “L-luke, what are you doing here?”

He turned to look at the house. “I bought the old place,” he said. His tone was light, but she could hear the tension in his voice. “I’m fixing her up. You want to have a look?”

“Bought it?” she muttered, unable to wrap her mind around the idea. Luke knew what had happened here. He had been the one who had found her hiding under the bed. The one who had coaxed her out of her hiding place and walked her out of the house. How could he possibly want to live in this nightmare that was once her home?

She was wrong to have come here. No matter what her sister’s letter had said, she couldn’t do it. Facing her fears had never been her way of handling things. Avoidance had always been her safe-haven.

Ruthy note: We have an instant feeling of an old rescue, a dark moment in a young girl’s life. Jan, I’d change the “had never been” or the “had always been”, they’re too close together.

She had run from her past, from this house and from Luke ten years ago and she was ready to do it again.

“I have to go.” She turned to put the key in the door of her Volvo parked at the curb.

Luke reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, then turned her to face him. Lifting her chin, he forced her to look him in the eye. His voice was soft, “Abby, you can do this. We’ll do it together.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.

Ruthy note: I'd lose "up".

Together. That’s the way Abby had always imagined her life - she and Luke together, but too much had happened. Too much sorrow, too much betrayal.

She dropped her gaze and shook her head, “I can’t, Luke.”

“You have to stay, Abby,” He said, lifting her chin again until she looked him in the eye.

"There’s something you don’t know about what happened that day.”

Oh, very nice ending! I would suggest not lifting the chin twice, going for another way to draw her attention.

The other suggestion I would make is to re-word some of the repetitive phrasing. If we use it too often, we lose some of that impact.

I’d re-work some of the past tense phrasing to keep the past less distanced from these pivotal moments. (I’m not sure what I just said, but it sounded real smart-like!)

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Whew! I was afraid she would just rip this apart. She’s that good! But I’m happy with the changes she made and think they make the story read much better.

Thanks, Ruthie, for your input. It’s not every day a beginning fiction writer can score a free critique from a multi-published author. I appreciate you.

If you're an aspiring fiction writer, you ought to be hanging out at Seekerville. Lots of fun, friendliness and these folks are always willing to extend a helping hand.


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If you enjoyed this post, please feel free to share it with your friends using the Facebook, Twitter and other share buttons below. Thanks!

(Copyright© 2012 Jan Christiansen. All rights reserved.)

Destined for Love (1000 word story challenge)

Photo courtesy  melodi2, rgbstock.com

Lydia stood at the edge of the creek willing herself to look away from the preacher’s bare back, but her gaze remained locked.

Only her older brother’s voice broke the spell.

“Joshua, you get yourself decent, there’s a lady present.” Frank said.

Lydia felt the heat creep up her neck and spread across her cheeks as she whirled around to put the scene behind her.

Frank and Joshua had been friends for as long as Lydia could remember and Lydia had been in love with Joshua for just about as long…though she’d never admitted that to a living soul.

“Just coolin’ off a bit,” laughed Joshua as he made his way to shore in his water logged trousers. He slipped into his shirt and pulled on his boots. “You can turn around now, Miss Lydia. I’m decent.”

Lydia wanted to sink right down into the muddy banks of Carter’s Creek. She, Frank and Joshua and most of the other kids in town had swam together in that creek many times, but that was years ago - before they had grown up. Still, she didn’t want Joshua to know that the sight had bothered her.

She turned around to face the men, flipping her brown curls in the process. “Decent?” she said, “Joshua, you’ve never been decent a day in your life. Not since you chased me down the street with a garter snake when you were 12. You were a scoundrel then and you’re a scoundrel now.” She put both fists on her hips. “Why, I expect you’ll always be a scoundrel and how you got to be a preacher, I’ll never know.”

Joshua chuckled, “Well, I reckon the good Lord gets a kick out of turnin’ scoundrels into saints, just so it’ll confuse people.”

“A saint? A saint? Why Joshua Daws, if you think you’re a saint…”

Frank stepped between his sister and the preacher.

“Will you two never stop bickering?”

“I will if she will,” Joshua grinned.

Lydia raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” She said. “If you will excuse us, Parson Daws, my brother and I were on our way to the mercantile to pick up supplies for Mama.” With that she spun on her heels and marched herself toward town. “Are you coming, Frank?” she threw over her shoulder.

Joshua watched the only girl who’d ever caught his eye walk away. He turned and gave Frank a playful slug in the arm. “My friend, that sister of yours gets prettier every day.”

Frank shook his head. “When are you two going to admit you like each other so you can get on with the task of courtin’? You know you’re going to wind up my brother-in-law sooner or later.”

Joshua turned again to look down the path Lydia had taken. “From your lips to God’s ears, my friend,” he said.

--Several months later--

“I reckon I’ll just have to up and marry you, Miss Lydia,” said Joshua, giving the swing another push.

Lydia squealed. “Joshua Daws, you stop this swing right now!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Stepping in front of the swing, he grabbed both ropes as Lydia swung toward him. The swing jerked to a stop, throwing the pretty girl right into his arms. He pulled her close. “Will you, Lydia?” His voice softened. “Will you marry me?”

Lydia’s heart pounded in her chest, her face felt flush as tried to push him away. “Let me go, Joshua.”

“Never,” said the preacher, tightening his hold.

Lydia looked over her shoulder at her family and friends, gathered on the church grounds for a late summer picnic.

“Let go,” she said, pushing herself out of his embrace. “Someone will see.”

“Don’t bother me, none,” he shrugged. “They know we’ve been courtin’ for a while. I doubt anyone will be surprised when we get married.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes and did her level best to look perturbed. “And just what makes you think I’ll marry you, Parson Daws?”

Joshua reached out and ran his finger down her cheek. “Well,” he said, “because I’ve known from the first time I ever laid eyes on you that you were the girl for me.”

Lydia’s skin tingled where he’d touched her face. “Joshua, don’t be silly. I was only nine years old when we moved to Carter’s Creek and you and Frank became friends.”

“That’s right, and I’ve waited 10 long years for you to grow up so I could make you my wife. Besides that, you've got to admit…you and me would make the cutest babies this side of the Rockies.”

Lydia felt the heat rush to her face again. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

He pulled her back into his arms. “Say I’m wrong, sweetheart. Say you don’t love me. Say you don’t want to be my wife and I’ll walk away.”

With that, he dropped down on one knee and shouted loud enough for the whole town to hear, “Lydia Reynolds, will you be my wife?”

“Say yes,” Frank yelled from up on the hill.

“Say yes,” her father shouted from the bench under the oak tree.

“Say yes! Say yes!” came more cries from the crowd.

Joshua looked into her hazel eyes. “Say yes,” he whispered.

Lydia was beat and she knew it. She threw her head back and laughed. “Yes, yes, yes, I will marry you, Parson Daws.”

A cheer rose from the crowd as their friends descended the hill to congratulate them.

Frank got to his sister first and gave her a big hug. “About time,” he said, “What took you so long?”

Lydia gave him a sly grin. “Sometimes you just have to let a feller chase you until you catch him,” she said.

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(Copyright© 2012 Jan Christiansen. All rights reserved.)

Photo Credit: http://www.aveleyman.com/ActorCredit.aspx?ActorID=15667

A Thrifty 4th of July

What a blessed 4th of July we've had so far!

Woke up to cloudy skies and temperatures at least 25-30 degrees lower than they have been recently. Soon a breeze kicked up and then it started to rain. Now, some folks might be disappointed by a rainy 4th of July, but not us. Arizona gets mighty hot this time of year and we having seen rain in many months. It's a real treat when the skies open up and give us a bit of relief from the scorching summer sun.

We actually took Max and Oliver (our dogs) out for a walk in the rain. They love it. We all came back dripping with happiness.

Then Lee wanted to go to the thrift store. I gave him a lecture all the way there about not spending money on a bunch of junk, but we came out with 3 bags full of treasures.

I found several books by some of my favorit authors...

It Had to be You by Janice Thompson

Swinging on a Star by Janice Thompson

The Measure of a Lady by DeeAnne Gist

Watch Over Me by Christa Parrish

In this Sanctuary by Twila Parish

Mixed Bags by Melody Carlson

The Rocking Chair Reader by Helen Kay Polaski

Against All Odds by Chuck Norris (for my grandson)

Cowboy Poetry by Michael Whitaker (cause I love cowboys)

Mr. Lee came away with a genuine Babe Ruth autographed baseball, (the ball was genuine, the autograph, not so much), a Phoenix Suns baseball cap (wait...the Suns are a basketball team, why do they have baseball caps?) signed by Dan Marjerle (that one was a genuine signature), a belt, a pair of camoflage pants, as camoflage hat (he doesn't hunt) and a bag of lemon drops. (Who eats candy from the thrift store? Mr. Lee, that's who!)

The best part? Most of our stuff was half price!

Came home and sat in my hammock chair on the deck listening to it rain and reading a great book (The Husband Tree by Mary Connealy). Fell asleep in the chair.

Got hungry, so the three of us (me, Lee and my brother, Rod) went to Leo's Island BBQ for lunch. Yummy!

And it's only 4:00! Can't wait to see what the rest of this evening holds, but it's been a fireworks kind of day for me already.

Happy 4th of July, everybody!

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If you enjoyed this post, please feel free to share it with your friends using the Facebook, Twitter and other share buttons below. Thanks! (Copyright© 2012 Jan Christiansen. All rights reserved.)