Remnants of the original
family stories trickle down generations.
As with all stories, there was truth and imagination interjected
throughout.
Incredibly,
family patriarch and provider
of his large clan Martin Van Buren O’Brien spoke, said, and did every blessed
thing the stories passed down insisted.
“The bastard was a spiteful old sinner…cranky does not begin to describe
his temper…words that son of a bitch could say…Ireland would
weep at the vernacular when Van
exploded in one of his rages…
Actually, this is one of our family stones,
and the head of the family was Martin.
Many more true tales hovered about. Subsequently,
at Martin Van Buren O’Brien’s interment, over six hundred town residents gathered
around the grave to hear final words from the priest.
Then, one by one, each passed by the mound of dirt and
spit on it. Some spoke words in their
own vernacular, expressing
heart-felt wishes. One frequently used
phrase was “May you burn in hell, you…..”
This week's words were provided by River, who has given six words and/or prompt sentence (which was quite interesting this week!). Please pop over to her site and see what other bloggers have posted in her comment section, OR write your own poem, prose, story, etc. Be sure to leave an address at River's site to allow us to find you!
Movie reviews are supposed to help movie goers decide
what to see. Most of those who write
these reviews seem to have forgotten why people go to see movies.
We go to escape.
To enjoy. To be part of something bigger than ourselves.
We do not go to examine the plot line, seek to deride director
errors, editing decisions, actor choices or screen writer inadequacies.
Right now in theaters is “In the Heart of the Sea”
which is story about a story. Herman
Melville, author of “Moby Dick”, sought out the one of the survivors, Tom Holland who had been the youngest of the crew on the
whaler ship, Essex. It was a bloody,
horrible story, and this survivor needed to wrench the images of memories from his tortured mind.
Author Nathaniel Philbrick researched Melville, the painful consequences of the Essex and the greed of the company who owned the ship. With this incredible history, Philbrook wrote "In the Heart of the Sea".
Interview and relating the story was therapeutic for both
the story teller (Tom Holland) and the writer, Melville. Even
so, film reviewers turned their noses, criticizing it for lacking “stuff”. At This Site every amateur critic had not read "Moby Dick". One such critic said this.
"Nobody gives a crap about Moby Dick. Just THINKING about the idea of a movie about the friggin' story that inspired the story of Moby Dick puts you to sleep. How did he (Chris Hemsworth) get paid $80 million to make that?!"
For us, the movie was riveting. The actors were strong and skillful. The director was Ron Howard. The setting was true to the times. The interaction between Melville and the
survivor was emotional and bonding. Knowing the story of the Essex and its
demise hung over the audience, hoping “No, not that!”
Engrossing, hope, loss and gain, greed, a dirty
industry, eminent death, and finally redemption—all make for a movie that rises
above “Krampus” or “Trumbo”.
Please see what the whaling industry became before its demise.
More than that, see what the current intelligentsia reads or has not read.
The storage bin had been a part of the farm house as long as anyone could remember.Even back many generations, that bin was there, leaning up against the barn.
It used to store chicken feed.Farmer Gunter got rid of the chickens after a few decades.
Then the bin was used to keep coal before the farmer switched to propane.He cleaned the bin out and thought about how it could be used.He even asked his wife Bernadette what they should do with the empty bin.
Bernie launched into another harangue about him being too lazy to even think for himself, and then moved on to his other deficiencies.The list was long.Gunter stared at her blankly as she continued.
After some time, Gunter packed up his suitcase and gathered up all their money stored in the cellar since the Great Depression.As he passed by the bin, he patted the lid which sported shiny new nails all around the perimeter.
“You’re right, Bernie.I shoulda thought of this long ago.”Silence was the answer. This was a photo prompt compliments of Delores at Under the Porch Light back on July 17, 2013. I liked the macabre even then.
Heavy silence fell when an elderly man with a cane came
in to buy a coffee. The customers in
Rick’s Coffee remembered him well. Oh
yes, they remembered him.
He called himself “Fred”, but no one ever knew his true
identity. An air of inaccessibility surrounded him, which was just the way Fred
liked it. All that anyone knew was that
Fred was superb at tracking. Animals or people, Fred was on their trail
while foot prints were still wet.
Some said Fred could find a mosquito hiding in a free
standing rotting tree, during a raging sand storm.
When “Fred” left, walking slowly with his cane, all exhaled.
They had not wanted a repeat
of the last time he came for coffee.
No. They did not
want that. The italicized underlined words are courtesy of River, who is providing Wednesday Words for the month of December. Please click on her name to access her site and enjoy how other writings have used these words and the sentence prompt!
A brutal scene greeted Det. James. Blood splattered everywhere, gruesome and
dark. But, there were no bodies.
None.
Det. James and Forensics scoured the house, gathering
bits of evidence. But, still there was
nothing, no clues at all. Packing up and
walking out the door, Det. James was certain he had missed something. But what?
Something from the patio caught his eyes. Turning around, James saw the carcass of a
bright yellow rooster. Feathers littered
the patio, a patch of yellow around the dead fowl.
Det. James shook his head. “He’s back.
Rooster Man is back. Damn.”
This post is a stab at a story under 100 words. Go to this site, to see other stories.
Christmas toys have evolved over the decades without a
doubt. In different magazines
(Reminisce, for example), readers share how difficult it was for parents to
manage to save enough money to buy or make one
toy for Christmas.
Not the case now.
Visit Wal-Mart and discover toy heaven.
Toys-R-Us is dedicated to floor to ceiling toys. There is now a
retro-toy boom, which is just fine with me.
I like Roy Rogers lunch boxes.
Husband has refused to watch Rudolph or the Island
of Mis-Fits toys.Five decades is enough, he announced.In fact, no more animated/clay motion shows
will be watched.It’s a Wonderful Life and White
Christmas are acceptable and enjoyed.
Do you remember Tickle
Me Elmo™?How it seemed that the
little orange red monster would giggle, talk, and roll around seemingly without
stopping?We never found it
appealing or amusing, but the other set of grandparents did and gave it to
itty-bit.Our just-then two year old
gr-daughter did not enjoy it at all.
In
fact, it scared the daylights out of her.
Her daddy switched it on, and little girl hid around the corner, peering at it with wide eyes. Then he turned it on again and she ran away completely.
Before we left, sweet girl had boxed up silent Elmer in its original box. “Take it, Gawpie! Take away!” Chuckles from the parents, we put the box down on the floor.
Kisses and
hugs, and then little girl carried the box and set it on the sidewalk.“Take away! You take away!”
Her eyes were tearing up and Daddy held her. It’ll
be fine. She’ll get used to it. We
left, no Elmo in hand.
Elmo sat hidden in a closet for a year before little
girl-turned-three would let it roll around the carpet.
The stage manager scowled from backstage as Funny
Philly sang his opening song, “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts…” Since Billy Cotton and Danny Kaye's deaths, the vaudeville acts went wild with imitations. And Funny Philly was famous for his spirited performances that
endeared him to audiences across the country.
However, it was unknown to audiences that Funny Philly
was a tightwad, paying his crew paltry
salaries. The schism this created was reaching monumental proportions.
With no motivation,
the stage and prop crews became sloppy and some walked away. Funny Philly found his bookings sinking
lower and lower. It took two weeks
for Funny Philly to extrapolate
the cause.
By then it was too late. The only job Funny Philly could get was that of managing
the back stage door.
The words for the month of December will be provided by River. Please, oh please, visit her site where bloggers have posted in her comment section, OR have indicated they are posting at their own site. Being part of the writing renewal and regeneration has been a riot. So many takes of the same words is lively and entertaining!
This is also posted at Delores' site, Under the Porch Light. I had so much fun with it that I decided I would put it up here as well. Please please go to that site to see what some great writers create!!!
“Griz” lit the stacked logs, then stepped back to enjoy
the blaze in the fireplace. His old
cabin glowed in the light, and Griz inhaled the scent of spruce. Ah, the memories this place holds.
Griz gazed around at the walls laden with his
collection of antlers. The glass eyes of
dead bucks reflected a sense of anger. You
bastard.
There was a knock at the door and Griz wondered who
would be out at this time of night. He
swung open the door and his jaw dropped. There, in the moonlight, stood a massive gathering of bucks. In the lead was the biggest buck Griz had
ever seen.
It stood on its hind legs, and it held a bully club in
one front hoof, slapping it onto the other hoof.
If you find this chicken, then you'll be at the right place--River!
Borrowed from River's blog site, where you should go!! Go on now. Git!
Today is 2nd, and River has created some awesome words and sentence prompt for all bloggers. Just in case you have gotten lost, here are the posted words and sentence at River's Whimsical Wednesday: extrapolate, coconut, spirited, schism, paltry, motivation "He had blithely gone his way, carelessly breaking my heart as he waved good-bye." Enjoy and write!! You may post at 1) in the comment section of River's site OR 2) at your own blog site. Please be sure to inform readers where you are, so that you may be found!
In 2004, our youngest daughter, Mary married Richard
McKinley, whom she had met at a Cambridge, England. It was a beautiful wedding
in April, when everything was green, so green.
Ludlow is one of those English towns where roses and
geraniums grow everywhere, over stone walls, spilling into fences, and along
roads--So amazing that I almost wanted to cry.
I have recently discovered there is a “city” here in
California also called Ludlow. Boy
howdy. Could there ever be such diametrically
opposed cities?
We discovered this Ludlow, California, as we drove
along Needles Hwy. We
had stopped for petrol/gas and were immediately hit with hot desert wind,
blowing sand-like bits of black lava, from an ancient lava flow, which is now being graded
and ground.
In 1883, Ludlow was once just a water stop for
trains. After gold and copper were discovered, the town's population grew dramatically. The town now
has ten residents left, after the gold and copper mines ceased to produce, in
1940. Once Interstate 40 was built, the town slowly disappeared. Now there are many empty boarded up buildings, all that remain of the former boom town. In fact, the towns along the old Route 66 also slowly faded away. Ah, well.
It is a “gold mine” now for geologists and history
buffs. Remnants and pieces of old mines and rails
are very inviting to lead those interested through the Mojave Desert to Death Valley
Junction, passing through towns named Baker (Home of the world's largest thermometer) and Zzyzx.
We lived in Victorville, California, for seven years in the Mojave Desert. A desert has its own beauty, especially when the sun goes down, and the bluffs turn the colors of glory.
