Creepy and Gorey Story

Does Wendigo relishing the taste of a deer spinal cord put you in the Halloween spirit?  Mmm... vertebra, right?  If you like a little gore for your ghoulish holiday, you might appreciate the sight she made while disemboweling a dead rabbit.  I saw her excitedly tearing into something brown, and arrived to investigate just in time to see her slurp up the feces filled colon straight from the rabbits torn underside.  Yuck!  Would a responsible dog owner take the dead rabbit away for burial, or do like me, and pretend I didn't see what she was up to and retreat to the house?    

That night, the overcast sky blocked all light from the stars and moon, and the glow from the heat lamp in the chick brooder illuminated the greenhouse plastic with a devilish red glow.  What's that noise?!  Wendigo, is that you?  

I shouldn't think about murdered rabbits and devilish glows this close to all hallows eve.  Despite the eerie glow, I entered the dome of plastic to tend the chicks.  I also roamed to the barn and to the boy goat fence to count the glowing green eyes of the goats, who kept to their shelter, and didn't come forward for petting, like usual.  A rustle in the trees startled me.  What is that?!  Wendigo?  

I looked back to the house to reassure myself that the windows were still shining bright.  Coyotes called from the neighbors field as I went to fetch Wendigo's dinner dish and fill it from the bin in the barn.  Where is that dog?  She never misses dinner... Wendy, where are you?  

I called and got no answer.  I walked through the dark to the scene of the rabbit gut feast, and saw no sign of the rabbit or Wendy.  There wasn't even a piece of fur left as evidence.  Did she eat it all?  

I hear the new gravel on the driveway crunch, and the motion sensing lights come on.  Who's there?!  In the light I see her, sitting still and tall and casting a long dark shadow.  Come on girl, it's dinner time!  She didn't move, and sat still and staring.   

I went to her and could tell by her pitiful expression that something was wrong.  She didn't want to eat dinner and had a sorry look on her face.  Eating a deer spine and an entire rabbit - fur, guts, and all - on the same day, might be too much yuck for one pitiful doggy.  Poor puppy had a belly ache, like a kid after trick-or-treat.  For a couple of days she suffered from diarrhea, and I fed her rice water and canned pumpkin.  We tried to feed her pepto bismol, but she wouldn't have it.  She's back to her same old self today, just in time for Halloween.  No treats for her!  

Happy Halloween!

Practicing Dialogue

The leading character and the love interest...

"You want to go scratching for grains, Cogburn?"

"Sure.  What else is there?"

Mrs. Hall used her long pointed middle toe to peel back the top layer of hay, and then looked him right in the eye.  "We could search for worms in the compost pile," she said.  "There are always lots of worms to eat."

"Yes, worms.  I like worms."

"And then we could scratch in the manure pile, for dessert," she said.

"We could," Cogburn said, as he stretched one dark wing low to the ground and executed a perfect hop and skip in her direction. "But I've got a better idea."

"Squawk!"

A Flowerpot Story

I spent a few minutes recently looking at various methods on-line writers promote to encourage good writing habits.  There seems to be consensus that writing frequently, even daily, is good practice. There are websites devoted to writing challenges, and writing prompts - all with the goal of sparking the imagination so stories and ideas can flow freely from the minds and fingers of writers.   

One suggestion that popped up several times during my leisurely research, was to use a random word generator to give yourself a starting place for a story.  When I gave it a try, the word I was given was "flowerpot."

Rain's Flowerpot Story

Once upon a time, in land far, far away... well, actually, it was circa 1993, and I, a soon to be senior in high school, was in the gift shop of the amusement park called Kentucky Kingdom.  I didn't expect to have one of my greatest philosophical epiphanies while perusing the t-shirt rack after an afternoon of roller coaster rides, but you can't plan these things.  

My father's company would give tickets for Kentucky Kingdom to the employees and their families each year. It was like a company picnic, only with roller coasters.  My two younger brothers and my best friend and I, rode all the way to the park on a mattress in the back of dad's pickup truck.  The truck had a camper top on the bed, so we were comfortable back there, playing cards and looking forward to rattling our bones on rickety wooden rides.  We each had some cash to spend on trinkets and food, and when we needed more we knew to look for dad somewhere in vicinity of the beer trolley.  Good times were had by all.  

I'm getting to the flowerpot - so hang with me.  Over the summer, I'd been going to my job, driving my car, hanging out with my friends, and occasionally thinking about life after high school.  Like other teenagers,  I'm sure, I was planning my escape.  I was going to go to college, and was pretty sure that a college really far away would be good.  Somewhere cool and adventuresome.  You know, like... Wisconsin.  Whoa.    

On that day, as I flipped through the t-shirt rack, I stopped at a maroon shirt with an image of a flowerpot with three big blooms sprouting from it.  Under the flowerpot it read "Bloom Where You are Planted."  Cliche? Sure, but remember, I'm seventeen at the time and my exposure to one-liners was limited as meme's weren't yet invented.  I decided to spend my cash to buy the shirt, despite the fact that two of the big sunflower-like blooms were situated so they they fell neatly onto the peak of each breast.  

With my senior year peppered with college prep exams, campus tours, interviews, and even some information and calls from recruiters (according to the brochures, students in Wisconsin get to spend their days kayaking on gorgeous lakes with gorgeous boys wearing expensive outdoor gear, instead of going to class), and my parents pointing out the advantages of in-state tuition and the good state school only an hour and half away, it helped me to think about that flowerpot and the big blooms on my breasts.  I could just bloom where ever I got planted, right?  

I planted myself at the school in Kentucky, right next to Brandon, and we bloomed together.  I wore that shirt for so many years that it disintegrated, but I still appreciate the wisdom of the flowerpot.