When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of coordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise, River has taken the mantle of coordinator upon her shoulders.
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.
This month the words are given by River at Drifting through Life
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
Please,
remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories.
And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one
thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need
encouragement.
And for today we were given:
Mosey
Quicksand
Ashes
Wire
Wild
Twisted
And/or:
Clowning
Spilled
Villa
Reliable
Trusted
Mountain
I intended to use some of the words and then the story ran away with me. But as the Words for Wednesday preamble says: "Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow" I do not feel bad about this. An who knows, I might return and write more, now using the words.
Continuing my story from here: June, the Solitary Hero - 7
I am really fighting to keep my poor June solitary, I might have to give up, as I have her stuck in a hard place in my mind.
June awoke to a beautiful sunrise. She debated with herself what to do now. As she entered the bathroom, she once again remembered her candlestick-clue. Looking through the hole formed by the two candlesticks, June was not in doubt. That big tree, that was where the land-bound signaller was placed. It had to be easy to find. A big oak, not that far from her house. She dressed in old, warm clothes and a sturdy, waterproof overcoat. At second thought she put a small notebook, some zip lock bags and a pair of rubber gloves in her pockets - one more reason to love that old coat. Really deep, waterproof pockets.
At third thought she went into the house and got her foraging basket. Inconspicuous was the clue.
At the gate to the wood she stopped, went back, got a saw from the shed and cut down a sturdy sapling. It would serve her as a walking stick, and as a weapon if need be. She still remembered her self defence, even if her style had grown rusty. She wanted training, she had to find a club or something in town. Still thinking she plodded through the woods in general direction big tree. Several times she stopped, looked at mushrooms, tasted the blackberries, and picked a goodly portion of ripe sloeberries.
Then the tree towered over her. No doubt this was it. It was thick, and a worn path led to it and halfway around the trunk. She waked up to it, looking up. It was an oak, the branches laden with acorn. She picked up one from the ground and peeled off the outer layer. Inside it was red and fresh. She picked some more and out them in another compartment of her basket. Acorn were useful, and picking them up was a good excuse for circling the tree and for standing still, listening. She saw and head nobody.
Where the worn path to the tree ended, the trunk was worn as from someone climbing up. June looked up, and noticed that climbing up here would be easy. The branches almost made a natural staircase and off the ground the branches forked and made a comfy seat.
She gathered some more acorns and noticed small pieces of torn paper at the ground. These she picked up too and stuffed them deep down into her pocket. She continued on past the tree for a short span. When she found a patch of king boletes she picked the best and decided to call it a day.
June returned home without mishaps and rinsed the berries, cleaned the mushrooms, and put the acorns out to dry before setting herself at the table with the small pieces of paper and a mug of tea.
The pieces were wet and musty from lying in the forest, and she laid them out to dry. Most of them seemed empty, with only a few words here and there. June lost patience and fetched her iron and board. Ironing the pieces with care, she noticed letters appearing. 'Invisible ink', she thought to herself, and carefully ironed all the small pieces. On most of them brown letters appeared, and stayed.
She took the papers back to the table and began putting them together. It was not east, many of them were torn, some were missing, and some still only half legible. But in the end she had what looked like a page from a notebook, with words and their meanings. All in a language she could not read. June looked up. The sun was already nearing the trees. She put away her puzzle and prepared the mushrooms. Sunset found her in bed with a nice book.
... to be continued
Og historien på dansk
June vågnede op til en smuk solopgang. Hun overvejede, hvad hun nu skulle gøre. Da hun gik ind på badeværelset, kom hun endnu en gang i tanke om sit spor med lysestagerne. Hun kiggede ud gennem mellemrummet mellem de to lysestager og var ikke i tvivl. Det store egetræ, hun kunne se i mellemrummet. Ham der havde signaleret inder fra land, måtte have siddet deroppe. Det kunne ikke være så svært at finde et stort egetræ ikke så langt fra hendes hus. Hun klædte sig i noget gammelt, varmt tøj og en robust, vandtæt frakke. Efter lidt overvejelse puttede hun en lille notesbog, nogle fryseposer og et par gummihandsker i lommerne – endnu en grund til at elske den her gamle frakke. Virkelig dybe, vandtætte lommer.
Efter endnu lidt overvejelse gik hun ind i huset og hentede den kurv, hun brugte til at plukke svampe i. Der var ingen grund til at henlede opmærksomheden på sig selv, hvis det kunne undgås.
Ved indgangen til skoven standsede hun, gik tilbage, hentede en sav i skuret og fældede et robust ungt træ. Det kunne hun bruge som vandrestav og som våben, hvis det blev nødvendigt. Hun kunne stadig huske det meste af det selvforsvar, hun havde lært, selvom hendes teknik var blevet lidt rusten. Hun havde brug for træning; hun måtte finde en klub eller noget i byen. Mens hun stadig tænkte over det, traskede hun gennem skoven i retning af det store træ. Flere gange standsede hun, kiggede på svampe, smagte på brombærrene og plukkede en anseelig portion modne slåen.
Så fik hun øje på et stort træ. Det måtte være det hun havde set hjemmefra, det ragede højt op over hende. Det var tykt, og en næsten usynlig sti førte hen til træet og halvvejs rundt om stammen. Hun fulgte den utydelige sti og kiggede op. Det var en eg, hvis grene var tynget af agern. Hun samlede et op fra jorden og skrællede den hårde yderskal af. Indvendigt var det rødt og frisk. Hun plukkede nogle flere og lagde dem i et andet rum i sin kurv. Agern var nyttige, og at samle dem op var en god undskyldning for at gå rundt om træet og for at stå stille og lytte. Hun så og hørte ingen.
Der, hvor stien endte, var stammen slidt, som om nogen havde klatret op ad den. June kiggede op og bemærkede, at det ville være let at klatre op her. Grenene dannede næsten en naturlig trappe, og lidt over jorden forgrenede de sig og dannede et behageligt sæde.
Hun samlede nogle flere agern sammen og lagde mærke til at der lå små stykker iturevet papir på jorden. Dem samlede hun også op og proppede dem ned i en pose, og så dybt ned i lommen. Hun gik videre, bort fra træet, og da hun lidt senere fandt et sted med mange rørhatte, plukkede hun de bedste og besluttede at slutte for i dag.
June vendte hjem uden at opleve noget som helst, skyllede bærrene, rensede svampene og lagde agernene til tørre, før hun satte sig ved bordet med de små papirstykker og en kop te.
Stykkerne var våde og sarte efter at have ligget ude i skoven, og hun bredte dem ud til tørre. De fleste af dem så tomme ud, med kun et par ord her og der. June mistede snart tålmodigheden og hentede sit strygejern og strygebræt. Mens hun omhyggeligt strøg papirstykkerne, bemærkede hun at der dukkede bogstaver op. 'Usynligt blæk', tænkte hun ved sig selv, og strøg omhyggeligt alle de små stykker. På de fleste af dem dukkede der brune bogstaver op, som blev stående.
Hun tog papirerne med tilbage til bordet og begyndte at sætte dem sammen. Det var ikke let; mange af dem var revnede, nogle manglede, og nogle var stadig kun halvt læselige. Men til sidst havde hun noget, der lignede en side fra en notesbog, med ord og deres betydninger. Alt sammen på et sprog, hun ikke kunne forstå. June så op. Solen var allerede ved at nå toppen af træerne. Hun lagde sit underlige puslespil væk og gjorde svampene klar. Da solen gik ned, lå hun i sin seng med en god bog.
