Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story 2015

The Nano Poblano’s are writing a story!

Fish of Gold has started us off with a bang, so far it’s a story of suspense and excitement and, well,  I’m not sure where it’s going but I’m certain it’s going to be an interesting ride!

Here is the story so far, with my addition in blue at the end.

nanopoblanohop

Eli stumbled into the compartment, flush and out of breath, and took the only available seat next to an old woman and a child. After months of planning, he suddenly had a bad feeling about this and stood right back up again, but at the same time, the train started moving.

There was no going back. As if to accentuate the point, the jerk of the train starting thrust Eli into his seat. Was he doing the right thing? Was he doing the wrong thing for the right reasons? Eli didn’t really know. What he did know was that the old lady had fake teeth that hadn’t been cleaned in a while, and the child reminded him of all the scary movies he’d seen about children. But that was besides the point. Eli was on a mission. Kind of.

He cringed, wishing he had planned this trip differently. The train ride lasted a full hour, plenty of time for things to go wrong when split-second timing was needed.

A droplet of sweat beaded at the end of Eli’s reddened face as he tried to catch his breath. Luckily, the old woman seemed to be busy telling the child a long and rambling fairy story. She hadn’t even noticed her fellow passenger.

Eli meant to keep it that way.

The child Eli had noticed was Rory, who was on a “real-life Thomas the Train trip” with his Gramma. Eli was right to note that Rory looked a little scary. The poor child did look a lot like Chucky from the classic horror movie Child’s Play…but then maybe that could be said of any three-year-old with red hair and freckles.

Rory, normally the sweetest of all kids despite his devilish appearance, loved his Gramma. Today though, her lack of a smart phone and insistence that “banana you glad” was the punchline to that knock-knock joke about fruit didn’t play well with his preschool-aged attention span. Especially on this long trip. Instead, he turned his attention elsewhere…

“GRAMMA, WHO’S DAT MAN?” Rory exclaimed, using his “outside voice”, pointing directly at Eli.

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THAT MAN RIGHT THERE GRAMMA! SEE? SEE THAT MAN?!
DAT MAN DARE, GRAMMA! SEE? SEE DAT MAN?!

That man was the conductor of the train and he had an announcement to make.  The passengers gave him the solemnity and respect fairly due to any person wearing such an official uniform.

He coughed sternly and spoke rapidly:  “There has been a minor delay and we’re going to disembark a little early while necessary repairs are made.  We apologize for the inconvenience.  Accommodations have been made for all passengers in the nearest town.  We think you’ll find the quaint, quiet rhythm of Bubbleville to be your liking.  The town is rich with, well– let’s call it history.”

Eli jumped when the conductor started to speak right behind him. At first he thought the kid had been pointing at him, which made him sweat, but the kid instead had pointed at the conductor.

The passengers started to leave the train, Eli followed reluctantly. He had no choice. He had heard of Bubbleville and its ‘rich history’. It was supposedly haunted with the ghosts of its founder Mr. Bubbles, a mean and miserly man and some of the people Mr. Bubbles had done wrong. Eli wondered if the legend was true. He hoped not. What he needed was a new plan, as his was not panning out.

Eli followed the rest of the passengers into the only hotel in Bubbleville. A dark, brooding place that looked more suited for nightmares than restful slumber.

A giant chandelier crashed into a thousand tiny pieces, sparkling with fire and mischief, and Eli, along with his fellow travelers, jumped and cried out in fear.  It hadn’t landed on any one but had come close to squishing the little boy he had shared train compartments with.  The child, for his part, had weathered the proximity of the disaster better than the rest.

Laughing, a rotund man dressed in a too-tight suit came forward from an alcove behind the reception desk.  “Forgive our little pranks.  Our guests, you see, often come with such trepidation that Mr. Bubbles is haunting around that we decided to play into their fears a bit.  Just a bit of fun.  See, look, feel, your tension is already easing, and now you’ll be able to relax more thoroughly than you would have otherwise.”

Eli was not more relaxed.  He was, however, considering all of his potential exits from Bubbleville that might afford him the opportunity to play a trick on the manager before making his full departure.  A rueful smile played across his face as he was shown to his room.

His smile vanished as the door to his room opened and a small ghost swooped down from the ceiling. It was too much. The train’s stop had completely ruined his plan, even if he were to rush out of town now he’d be too late. Here he was, worse off than before and in a fake haunted hotel to boot! Eli sighed and stomped off toward the shower. So long as he had a complimentary room he might as well make the most of it.

By the time he was ready for bed, a giant spider had been found in the bathroom, (sitting on top of the pink soap with the frighteningly cheerful face), growls echoed out from under the bed and he noticed a strange green glow outside his window. Eli collapsed on top of the bedspread (black, of course) as the events of the last days caught up to him. He lay too exhausted to even give an appropriate eye roll when the ghost floated down to sit on the bed next to him. 

Eli thought of his ruined plans and groaned.

The ghost waved.

He tried to come up with a way forward and flung a pillow over his face.

The ghost moved closer.

“Now what?” He asked the room at large, and though it was muffled from the pillow on his face he heard heard someone say, “Eli?”

He flung the pillow off of his face and found the ghost staring at him.

The ghost smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

Eli stared.

The ghost smiled again and said, “Can I help?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The contributors so far:

Fish of Gold
A Disquieted Mind
SVM & TB Stories
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books
NotAPunkRocker
Rarasaur
Jackie
The Matticus Kingdom

and me!

Take it away Never Trust a Jellyfish!

The rules are:

Nano Poblano Blog Hop Basics:

  1. Wait until you are tagged, then add a new post on your blog with these rules, the story so far, and who’s been tagged.
  2. Title and tag the post as Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story 2015.
  3. Add at least one sentence to the story.
  4. Pick another Pepper from the blogroll to tag (preferably one who hasn’t already been tagged).
  5. Add a link to your chosen Pepper’s about page (so they get a notification that they’ve been tagged) to the tagged list below.
  6. Pass the story along within two days of getting tagged.nanopoblano2015dark

 

 

Not A Duck

I have an uncle who likes to classify birds in one of two ways.

Duck.

Not a duck.

Duck, clearly, being the preferred type.

Storm seems to be taking after him. She duck hunts with John and she upland hunts with both of us. But after today, I think her preference is falling heavily toward duck.Mom pheasant hunting

 

On another beautiful, blue sky, fall day my mom and I went out pheasant hunting. We started out with a bang. Trip had a perfect point and retrieve for me and then my Mom and her dog got a bird. (It was probably just as perfect but I didn’t witness it.  So for the purposes of this post my dog wins the Most Perfect Dog award). Just after that Storm held a point for me for ages. Ages, because that’s how long it took me to realize she was missing, search her out in the long grass, find her locked on point, come up next to her and finally flush the pheasant. It was a great point and, fortunately, I was shooting straight that day. The bird went down and Storm ran off after it only to return with a slightly damp pheasant. Which was odd, but there was a bit of water around so I didn’t think too much of it.

I should have.

Apparently Storm was looking for ducks.

Mom shot the last bird of the day and I watched as Storm took off after it for the retrieve. She picked it up, ran directly to a very large, muddy puddle and dunked the pheasant in the middle of it. For those of you unfamiliar with how bird hunting with dogs work, let’s be kind to John’s dog (remember that fantastic point!) and just say that’s… not the ideal retrieve. After the pheasant’s initial dunking I believe she looked at it and was still un-satisfied with it’s not-a-duck appearance. So Storm, nosed it and mouthed it, repeatedly rolling it over and over in the giant mud puddle until it was a dark, soggy, mass of feathers.

Storm in a puddle with Not A Duck

At this point it may have been a good idea to work on some dog training but it’s quite possible that my mom was too busy making indignant comments on the worthiness of John’s dog while I was too busy giggling and taking pictures, so we didn’t. Eventually Storm crawled out of the mud hole with the sodden mass of feathers. It still didn’t look quite like a duck but on the other hand it no longer looked like any pheasant I’ve ever seen retrieved!

I picked it up, heaviest pheasant I’ve ever handled, and stuffed it into my mom’s game vest for her. I think I heard her sloshing a bit on the way back to the truck.

As for Storm? I’m pretty sure that this weekend John needs to take his dog duck hunting.

Laundry Day

It was laundry day.

But it was not a day for doing laundry.

It was a day of perfect weather and blue skies.yello maple leaves

It was the kind of day that makes those of us who live with the ebb and flow of four full seasons glow. We shine as if to match the glowing autumn leaves because we know that we are just that lucky to live these blue sky days of fall.

These blue sky days of fall aren’t worth missing.

It was a day for looking up,Looking up

and digging down.transplanting

A day for bare feet in leaves,Jane running in leaves

and watching honey bees.honey bees

It was laundry day.

But it was not a day for doing laundry.

I Created The Monster

I created the monster.Wicked Witch Ivy

Well, that one too, but that’s not the one I’m talking about.

No, the monster I’m talking about is the one that rears it’s ugly head every year at Halloween when I try to tell my children to wear weather appropriate clothes with their costumes.

Probably if I told them to wear weather appropriate clothes more often, this wouldn’t be an issue. But that’s not my way. I’m more of a, “Alright if you don’t want to wear your hat/shirt/shoes/pants/jacket/socks/mittens that’s fine,” sort of mom. I’m a, “Sure you can wear a tank top in October but grab a sweatshirt to leave in the truck just in case,” kind of mom. I’m a, “My kids are smart and will put on clothes when they are cold,” kind of mom. Most importantly I’m a choose your battles kind of mom.

And when it comes to battles, I never choose clothes.

Except.

Except on Halloween.Wicked Witch Ivy and Clara Bee

Because cold children and trick or treating go poorly together and when one ridiculous evening of candy gathering (don’t get me wrong I love the candy) is hyped for weeks and costumes are gathered (thank you Grandma Pat), the last thing I want after experiencing the horrid-ness that is Halloween (I’m a Halloween hating curmudgeon, it’s true) is for all that effort turns into snot nosed, whining, crying, cold children who need to cut the evening short where they (and I) will be devastated by their meager candy haul. (Miniature Milky Way bars are the only thing that continues to ensure my participation in this terrible holiday.)

And so on Halloween I tell my children to wear more clothes. This is a direction that is so unpracticed on both the directing and the receiving end that to call it a lead balloon would be a kindness.

This year, I eventually remembered that I’m a choose your battles kind of mom, threw my hands in the air and we left the house looking like this.Wicked Witch Ivy, Bee Clara and Princess Jane

While I personally feel that that picture contains a lot of cuteness it’s totally lacking in clothing for weather befitting a drizzly October evening in Wisconsin.

Ivy had cold toes and Clara had cold fingers and Jane was frozen all over. Not that that meant she wanted to put her shoes on. So John and I stood at the end of many sidewalks and showed concerned citizens of our town that our pockets had both sweatshirts and shoes for the small purple princess who was shivering as she slowly minced down the sidewalk after us.

It was just after John made the comment that perhaps we should take away her crown and give her a box of matches  that she was done. John took her back to the warmth of the truck while I continued to follow the others through the town. To their credit none of them whined about the cold. They just talk about it in an, “Oh my gosh I can’t even feel my toes” sort of incredulity as they marched on through the ghoul-filled darkness.Princess Jane

 

It’s true, I created the monster.

And I’m ok with that because for the other 364 days of the year it’s a monster that serves us well.

As for Halloween, well, I’ve never liked it anyway.

Except for those mini Milky Way bars…

 

I’m A Tiny Pepper!

I know, I know, you thought I walked more upright and was less green, didn’t you?

But for the month of November I’m joining in with the insanity that is posting every day with the NanoPoblano’s and a tiny pepper I will be!nanopoblano2015dark

Why?

Mostly it’s because I love a good challenge.

You see, it starts like this…

Someone says, you should do this thing with me. And I say to myself, “No I could never do that thing because x, y and most importantly, z.” And then I say to myself. “Whatever, I totally could do it if I wanted to.”

And then I do it – just to spite myself.

Because that’s just how contrary I am.

And also, because dinosaurs are very convincing creatures.

If you’d like to hear more about the NanoPoblano’s or NaBloPoMo read “waiter, there is too much pepper in my coffeekash”. Of course what you will read is written by said convincing dino. You might not want to actually follow the link unless you are willing to publish a blog post daily for the next thirty days.

(And you could, it’s not too late!)

See you tomorrow!

(and the next day… and the next… and…)