Peace by Proxy

The following piece of flash fiction was written based on the visual writing prompt below.  It wasn’t the original idea that came to mind, but it is the one with which I was most pleased.  I have been writing flash fiction lately for a writing circle contest.  I hope you enjoy my latest installment.

dirt-road-427913_1280

Josiah watched the soldier march up the long road snaking across his property. Fog shrouded the young man, but his uniform and unique helmet marked him for a Brit. When he reached the front porch, he stopped and saluted smartly.

“Excuse me, sir, does Jenny Coates live here?” the young man asked in a Cockney accent.

“No, son, she doesn’t.”

The soldier chewed the inside of his mouth, narrowed his eyes.

“All right then. I’ll ask at the next house.”

He disappeared around the side of the house as the screened door creaked open. Josiah’s wife, Kathleen, stepped out carrying two cups of coffee. She handed one to her husband and scrutinized his pale face.

“You saw the soldier again, didn’t you?”

“Yep,” Josiah admitted. “He just left.”

“Why do you think he keeps coming here?”

“I suppose his ghost is attached to that old Lee Enfield I bought for my collection.”

“Why don’t you sell it at the next gun show?”

“I can’t. I have to find out his name and why he’s looking for this Jenny.”

Kathleen smiled into her cup. She took a sip and asked, “You aren’t afraid of him, are you?”

Josiah snorted. “He’s just a boy.”

“A boy who’s obviously been dead since World War I.”

Josiah sighed and turned up the collar of his Carhartt against the November chill. Kathleen sat beside him on the glider, setting it in motion.

“You believe you can bring some peace to this boy, don’t you?” she asked.

“If not him, then perhaps me.”

“It won’t bring our son back, Josiah. Tommy’s sacrifice in Afghanistan–”

“Look, Kath; if Tommy is out there wandering, his ghost attached to some piece of gear, wouldn’t you want people to do right by him?”

“Let’s start with the initials R.W. carved into the stock, okay? We can trace it back through dealers next.”

Josiah squeezed his wife’s knee.

“Thanks, babe.”

Maleficent – Movie Review

images (3)My desire to support the local library, even if it is destroying itself from the inside out, means I’m coming in late with my review of the movie, Maleficent. I’ve already mentioned this in a previous post, so enough said on the subject.

I’ve discussed the movie with my friend and co-worker ever since the trailers for Maleficent first appeared. We agreed that Angelina Jolie was the perfect choice to play the character. My friend is into behind the scene facts and gossip about movies. She mentioned that Angelina studied the Disney cartoon extensively to ensure she portrayed Maleficent correctly down to her razor-sharp cheekbones.

I must admit I’ve only ever seen clips of the Disney version of Sleeping Beauty, but what I’ve seen clearly depicted Maleficent as the bad character. All of Angelina’s efforts in makeup and costuming certainly went along with what I’d seen.

My biggest concern when it came time to watch the movie was that I wouldn’t be able to turn off my internal editor and enjoy watching. I worried that the makeup, costuming, cinematography, and scenery would distract from the storyline. It didn’t, and I was able to take it all in.

But let’s actually discuss the movie.

If anyone could rage onscreen with the strength of a betrayed woman scorned beyond all reason, it would be Angelina Jolie. Factor in those horns and cheekbones, and she’s one scary lady. That didn’t happen in Maleficent.

The backstory did a good job of explaining why Maleficent ended up bitter and angry, but along the way, someone decided to remove the teeth from what could have been an incredible tale. Maleficent was all bark and absolutely no bite.

Instead of watching the main character deteriorate into a sociopathic, homicidal maniac bent on the destruction of a kingdom via the cherished princess, we were treated to a kinder, gentler Maleficent. Seriously?

What was the point of making her look fierce if she’s going to offer a clause to her own curse, attempt to revoke said curse, grow close in heart to the victim of her curse, regret her own actions when the curse is fulfilled, and be the only one who could actually break the curse? These changes in script were bland at best and completely undermined the entire story.untitled (6)

Perhaps Disney was trying to make a subtle point? Bad people can be redeemed. Perhaps the writers and producers didn’t want to scare children? Take a look at what kids watch on TV. Has Disney forgotten how to portray good versus evil? They certainly blurred the lines this time.

I could ask many more questions and read many themes into Maleficent. Quite frankly, it’s just not worth it. For me, the movie didn’t satisfy, and I will be much more skeptical of the upcoming remake, Cinderella.

Pastrami and the Teenaged Carnivore

This isn’t another article about how a boy’s appetite explodes when he turns teen. Rather, it’s a post about how my odd little duck approaches food in general.

Even before he hit the teen years, Joshua didn’t ask for food by its specific name, that is pizza, sandwiches, chicken, spaghetti. Instead of “What are we having for dinner?” he would ask “Is there any meat?” It didn’t matter what kind of meat as long as an animal-based protein appeared on his plate, preferably cooked.

Now that I think about it, as a toddler, he stood on a chair at the dining room table and attacked a platter of steaks with a spoon, trying to drag one off, shouting, “Meat, meat!”

Tonight I served pastrami and Swiss cheese sandwiches toasted under the broiler. For those of you without a teenager, meat is an okay word, but pastrami runs the risk of sounding foreign. Fortunately, Joshua recognized the concoction as two of his favorites: meat and cheese. So far, so good.

Joshua didn’t attack his food as I expected. He looked at the sandwich from the side, his cheek parallel with the table. Then he flipped his head over and examined the sandwich from the other side. I wasn’t two feet away from him, but he was oblivious to my observation.

Next he sniffed the food on his plate like a dog approaching an unknown yet potential food item. I worried the banana peppers would be offensive. Luckily, the melting Swiss cheese overpowered his finicky senses.

Gently, the sandwich was lifted off the plate with all ten fingers since Princess Boy hates anything greasy on his hands. He looked to the left then the right like a demented meerkat watching out for larger predators. The only threat at the table was Joshua’s father who is actually a pushover where Josh and food are concerned.

Before putting the sandwich in his mouth, Joshua proceeded to lick the broiled edge of the pastrami sticking out the end of the sandwich. His tongue flicked back and forth, trying to detect unpleasant tastes. At that point, I lost it laughing. Joshua also burst out laughing because he knows he’s been caught.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

We laughed some more before Joshua finally devoured the sandwich, moaning while chewing. He doesn’t know he possesses this habit.

Ruby & Jonathan

Ay, ay, ay – these visual writing prompts are taking me in a direction I never thought I would go unless it was kicking and screaming.  I’ll leave it to you to see where this story goes.  Not my usual style, but I hope you’ll enjoy it.

forest-336496_1280

Ruby & Jonathan

“Why do I suddenly feel like Little Red Riding Hood?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan replied. “Why do you feel like Red?”

“Oh, are the two of you on a first name basis now?”

Jonathan glanced at me sideways, flashed his beautiful smile. He took my hand and pressed it to his lips. Along with his toothy grin, these little romantic gestures were another thing I loved about him. And don’t even get me started on those dark gold eyes.

“You’re going to love this trail, Ruby,” he said. “It meanders with no steep inclines, no rocks to climb.”

“Sounds perfect.”

In the short time we’ve dated, I learned that Jonathan has three passions: Hiking, running, and hunting. He may have been twenty years older than me, but he was as fit as a man half his age. We’d hiked and run countless miles. The only activity I didn’t join him in was hunting.

“There’s a place just ahead where the path veers sharply to the right. The trail almost turns back on itself,” he said.

“Are we done hiking already?”

“I mentioned it because it creates a little nook completely hidden from view. No prying eyes.”

I looked behind us and craned my neck to see up ahead.

“I’m pretty sure we’re all alone,” I laughed.

Jonathan blushed and ran his hand through shaggy, salt and pepper gray hair.

“Well, I don’t want our twilight walk to be disturbed,” he said.

“Is this place special to you?”

“It’s private in this particular grove of trees. The branches make the perfect canopy for a secret rendezvous.”

“And what, exactly, do you think is going to happen there, Mr. Wolfe?”

My secretive boyfriend pulled me into a tight embrace, roguishly kissed my temple. His teeth lightly grazed my skin.

“I’ll race you there,” he said.

“I don’t know where it is.”

“You can’t get lost, Ruby. Just follow this big root-like thing on the path.”

I feigned reluctance with hands on hips.

“Ready, set– Hey!” he called as I took off running.

I could hardly run I was laughing so hard. Jonathan’s feet pounded the ground behind me. It would only be a matter of moments before he caught up to me on powerful, sinewy legs. I imagined him tackling me, rolling on the ground, laughing, and kissing. Instead, I heard his footsteps grow faint. A cold wind rushed past me as I ran.

I reached the secluded area first sure I had won. With hands on knees, I stood there panting.

“Hello darling.”

My head popped up at the sound of his voice.

“How– how did you get here? You cheater,” I said between ragged breaths. Pointing at his bare feet, I asked, “Where are your boots?”

“I run faster without them.”

A wicked smile spread across his face, not quite reaching his eyes.

“Didn’t you feel me pass you?” he asked.

I shivered at his question.

“No, but whatever. You won. Can we go home now?”

Laughter growled in his throat. Jonathan dropped into a runner’s stance, fingers and toes pressed lightly into the leaf litter. His muscles tensed, ready to spring.

“Wanna race again, Red? You run, I chase?”

“My name is Ruby, Jonathan.”

“That’s what I meant.”

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his glowing gold eyes.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

“Ready–”

“No, Jonathan.”

“Set–”

“Cut it out!”

“Go!”

Favorite Author & Multi-Book Review

untitled (6)Joanna Trollope is my favorite writer when it comes to working through the family situation. Her well-written characters are as diverse as the personalities one encounters in his or her own family and just as frustrating. I’ll no sooner have my favorite characters chosen only to have him/her say or do something completely stupid, and my allegiance changes to the character I used to hate. In this way, Mrs. Trollope reels you in and casts you back throughout the story.

The way in which she presents real-life, everyday situations isn’t boring in the least. Her ‘fly on the wall’ perspective into the lives of her characters offers the same guilty pleasure as witnessing private conversations and/or arguments.

Further, her conclusions aren’t always neat and tidy happy endings. Much like real life and family, there is a definite end to the situation, but rarely does it go well for everyone. You’ll struggle, suffer, rejoice, and celebrate right along with Mrs. Trollope’s characters, often identifying with them or recognizing them in your own family members.

I haven’t read everything written by this author, and I haven’t experienced her writing under her pen name Caroline Harvey. What I have read has been enjoyable, the most recent being Daughters in Law. Her novel, Other People’s Children, received my strongest reaction. As expected, the book is replete with interesting characters in different walks of life. There is, however, one character in particular who I fantasized killing in the most heinous ways imaginable long after I had finished reading the book. That may sound horrible, but I believe it’s testimony to Joanna Trollope’s excellent writing skills.

Here is a list of Joanna Trollope’s novel in order of publication.

Writing Inspiration

This morning, I seriously entertained the thought of chucking it all and applying at the local grocery store.  This writing/author thing is hard.  The thought of disconnecting from social media, abandoning my author platform and potential audience, and leaving behind the fear that comes from staring at a blinking cursor on a blank page sounded wonderful to me.  I realized I needed more encouragement than Mom or my husband telling me I could do it.

Thank you Anne Leigh Parrish for coming to the rescue.  What it Takes to be a Writer was the kick in the pants I needed to go on.  Mrs. Parrish didn’t candy coat the fact that writing is hard.  Instead, she offered ways to overcome the nagging doubts.

In the same vein of thought, I would direct you to Neil Gaiman’s speech Make Good Art.  I usually think of art as a painting or sculpture in a museum or gallery, but I needed to change my perspective about that.  Anything we have created, including writing, is art.  No matter how long it takes or how many times we mess up, keeping pressing forward.

Enjoy!

Mira Contemplates Her Choices

The visual writing prompts I receive in my writing circle are making a liar out of me!  I said I wasn’t a writer of fantasy stories, but this picture also generated a fantasy tale.  What is going on inside my writer’s brain?

Anyhow, this story is the flashiest of flash fiction.  Very short but receiving appreciation among my peers.  Enjoy!

Mira Contemplates Her Choices

whitby-89225_1280Mira wrapped her arms around herself, the tail ends of her shawl grasped in each fist. She longed to dive head first into the cold, black water, disappear from this life she used to wish for. The idea of a husband and baby once dominated her every waking moment. She could have had both at any time. There was no shortage of males who would have obliged her. Only Mira’s desires didn’t run along normal conventions. Now here she was, trying to decide whether or not to return to the world of merfolk or walk up the hill to the abandoned castle where Sean was waiting for her. It would have been such a release to tell him the truth about her origins and that she’s carrying his child.

Love for the Aging Collie

1379859303748

Hound Dog Diva

Aria turns ten today. According to the Pedigree Dog Age Calculator, based on her breed and age in human years, she is 75 years old. Happy Birthday, ole girl.

She’s been in the house ever since her brother, Tasu, was hit by a car. Aria was confused by his disappearance. She didn’t witness the accident; she simply saw him wedge his way out of the kennel and never return. Her ears perked and she looked for him any time his name was spoken. We were careful not to do that after the first three days. It was like watching a newly widowed woman.

Although I’m not a fan of big dogs in the house, I couldn’t leave Aria outside alone. She was silently grieving Tasu. We had her groomed at the Posh Pooch in Springfield and brought her inside. At first, she tiptoed around cautiously. She became my new shadow. I spoke to her in reassuring tones, but the moment I left a room, she was right by my side. Her restlessness concerned me.

I soon realized we both needed something to take our mind of the loss of Tasu, so I enrolled Aria in obedience classes at PetSmart in Canton. She knew a few commands my son taught her while working toward the Pets merit badge for Boy Scouts. After a quick assessment by the instructor, Leslie Jeandrevin, Aria was able to skip Beginner class and go straight to Intermediate.

Fresh from the groomers.

Fresh from the groomers.

The experience did wonders for my lonely dog. At first she was clingy. Over time, the socialization helped Aria relax. She had never been around another dog except her brother. She even made a best friend in a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named Isabelle.

I am proud to say she completed Intermediate and Advanced I & II with flying colors on the first try. Technically, she’s CGC certified. Lazy me never sent in the paperwork. I thought about doing therapy with her in nursing homes or conducting school visits. It’s a lot of work and money to maintain the standards of grooming required for these trips. Those two facts are also why we stopped with CGC instead of pursuing Pet Partners status.

Lately, Aria is napping more, sleeping more deeply. I can get out of a room and return before she notices I’m gone.  Her actions and responses are slower than they used to be. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her this winter since it’s supposed to be colder than last year. Weather can take a toll on an old dog despite the fact that she’s inside. I believe they truly do feel it in their bones.

I don’t know how much longer we’ll have Aria in our lives. What I do know is that I will continue to love her every moment of her life. Each year past ten is supposed to be a bonus for a large breed dog. If she doesn’t slip away peacefully in her sleep, I will not let her suffer. Enough of that talk for now; it’s her birthday!

The occasion calls for a car ride, a visit to PetSmart, a new chew toy of Aria’s choice, and a bag of Pupperoni, and then home to nap.

1377877981240

She’ll nap anywhere.

Thank You for Following

Thank you to all of my followers. Sometime between Sunday and Tuesday, I topped 500 followers on my blog. That is quite a landmark. I am forever grateful for your support during the process of writing, editing, and publishing my novel, The Secrets of Dr. John Welles.

Sincerely,

HL Gibson

Stolen From Gypsies by Noble Smith – Book Review

untitled (6)Ambrogio Smythe is a hypochondriacal British nobleman living in a miserable world of his own creation. The frail aristocrat is obsessed with memories of gypsies from his childhood, plagued by delusions of grandeur.

During the war between France and England, Ambrogio willingly strands himself in Tuscany with his faithful yet filthy servant, Antonio. In truth, he fled because he could not stand by and watch the woman he loved accept the hand of another.

While in Tuscany, Ambrogio endeavors to write his version of a swashbuckling tale based on a scrap of parchment purchased from a wandering storyteller. In the style of The Princess Bride with a heavy dash of The Bard and a large pinch of Monty Python, author Noble Smith weaves an adventurous, laugh-out-loud tale within a tale.

Magicians, spells, ravishing beauties, unlikely heroes, pirates, demons, and a useful glossary of archaic terms all serve to make Stolen From Gypsies an enjoyable read. Why it hasn’t been printed seven by seven times, bound in fine Morocco leather, and sent to the finest universities in Europe is beyond me.