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I’m going to be able to submit something!!!!!!!
This lady thrives on the divine grace of Faith and the rich embrace of caffeine.
đđđđđđ
"He who never quotes will never be quoted." ~Charles Spurgeon
@esther-c @savannah_grace2009 @grcr @theshadow @keilah-h
@koshka @freed_and_redeemed @trailblazer @whalekeeper @theducktator @elishavet-pidyon @power @jonaTODAY IS THE DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Are you all ready to submit your stories???!!!! I’m so excited to read them!
"He who never quotes will never be quoted." ~Charles Spurgeon
I’m tagging you too since you said you may have been able to participate.
"He who never quotes will never be quoted." ~Charles Spurgeon
I’m really really sorry… I wasn’t able to come up with an idea for the prompt, so I don’t have anything. đđ sorry…
whopper, whopper, whopper, whopper
junior, double, triple whopperI feel bad saying this because a couple others have said the same thing, but I canât submit a story this time. đđ School and other responsibilities took priority over writing these past couple of weeks and I wasnât able to get much done. đŁ Iâm so sorry!!
Write what should not be forgotten. â Isabel Allende
Here’s my story. It’s a little short, but I hope you enjoy it!
A Summer Star Gaze
âI screwed up, Liam. Hazel hates me now.â Milly hugged her knees and placed her face on them.
Liam sighed, lying on his back and resting his hands on his stomach. Above, the moon illuminated the porch roof the two sat upon, scarce few stars shining around it. The spring peepers called to one another, a distant croak of noise echoing over the neighborhood. Liam breathed in the summer air deeply, letting it out and watching the stars. âWhy did you say all those things to her?â
âI donât know!â Milly exclaimed, slightly muffled from her hands. âI was angry, and⌠I donât know.â
âApparently girls never seem to half the time.â
Milly shot him a look, a tear stained her left cheek. âSome help you are.â
Liam blinked, what did he say? âListen, Milly, you see those stars over there?â
Milly gazed up, âWhat about them?â
âWell, they form Draco, see?â Liam pointed to each star, and Milly nodded slowly.
âNow I see it.â
âYou know, looking at the stars always reminds me of something.â
âWhat?â Milly hugged her knees, blinking away a sting of tears.
âThat even though Iâm so insignificant compared to the universe, Iâve still got a God who loves me more than anything. And, almost as good as that, He forgives me even when I make a mess of things and come crying back to Him. He doesnât scorn me, doesnât yell at me⌠just, shows me whatâs right and forgives. And you know, He will do that for you if you ask Him to.â
âBut⌠I messed up so bad, if Hazel wonât forgive me, how could God?â
âYour right, you did mess up pretty bad.â Liam admitted, sitting up. Milly raised an eyebrow, giving him that twin look. âBut, Hazel is a human, and God is God, and you know, He forgave Paul. Iâm pretty darn sure He will forgive you too.â
Milly didnât answer, and Liam scootched closer, and hugged her. Milly buried her face into his shoulder and let the tears flow. After a moment, Liam let go, and Milly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She cleared her throat and managed a smile, âThanks, Liam.â
âOf course.â Liam replied, grinning. âLetâs go inside and get some ice cream.â
âSounds good.â
The twins crawled off the roof, opened the window, and disappeared into the house, both feeling changed.
âOur house is full of ducks!!!!â
@ellette-giselle @grcr @esther-c
Okay, thanks for letting me know. đ
"He who never quotes will never be quoted." ~Charles Spurgeon
I have a story to submit, but it’s sort of…shifted a bit, so it doesn’t fit with the theme much anymore. Do you still want it?
First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)
Fork the GorkHere it is either way.
Cobblestones
The boy glanced warily about another smogish street before making his way across. Maribel would be here any minute now, and he needed to be here to see her safely home. That was his side of the agreement. She was always on time, always happy to share a bite of gingerbread and a laugh. His friend.
A policeman strode by. The boy faded into the shadows as he passed, eyes locked on the manâs swinging baton. He stayed there, leaning behind a battered crate, until the sharp click clack of hard nailed shoes disappeared around the block. The boy crept out from his hiding place to watch him disappear. To glare even after the black clad figure was gone. Angry shopkeepers and policemen might have long memories, but nothing compared to the type a street brat carried.
The boy suddenly stiffened. Relaxed. A schoolgirl was coming his way. Her dress was clean and white, the type more often seen on summer holiday than the middle of October. Maribel. His dark eyes softened at her smile, at the way the pink bow in her hair bounced with each skipping step.
He glanced ruefully down at his shirt, noticing new smears of blood and dirt from last nightâs fight, and touched his split lip.
But Maribel took in his battered, smirched appearance with those quiet eyes and soft, âGood afternoon, Timon. How has today been?â
âOlâright miss. Got a hot roll fer breakfust.â The memory brought a rusty grin to his face. The bread had been dropped by a rich fool with more carelessness than charity. Not that Timon was pickish over where his next meal came fromâor how.
She hummed in reply. He took the small, paper wrapped thing she offered him and fell instep beside her as he unwrapped it.
âHalf a meat pie, miss? My! Thanks miss.â Heâd crammed most of it into his mouth at once before remembering that his companion was from âpoliteâ society. She only laughed. The pasty was gone as fast as he could swallow, leaving him to lick his fingers as he eyed the street.
Their footsteps made an odd pair as they wove their way up blocks of dusty brick walls and smutted windows; a barefoot gutter rat walking with the well shod daughter of the parish. Other dark eyes watched them, but the boy kept Maribel away from their alleys. He knew his part of the agreement.
As they turned onto the last block Maribel spoke up again. âItâs going to be cold tonight. If you need a place to stay, our house is always open.â
He laughed and shook his head.
âIâm a street rat, Mari. Ain’t made fer houses an walls.â
âBut those walls keep out the snow.â
He shrugged and didn’t reply. Maribel might be a friend, but she was just a kid. Her father on the other hand, well now. Never knew what a grown up might do. Besides, the boy had seen snow before, and although it made it harder to hide when the policemen came swinging their batons, streets were free.
He walked her all the way up to her front door with it’s clean swept step and worn knob dully shining in the evening light. It was like, and yet not like, every other house crowded together on the street. The boy hung back as she reached for the knocker, letting himself fade into the growing shadows. He would just wait until she was safely inside, until he knew heâd done his part. A frosty wind had picked up; he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
The door opened, but instead of going in Maribel turned back to him with her gentle smile. She said something, but the boy almost didn’t hear her. He was watching the man who had opened the door. Maribelâs preacher father.
âGood evening, Timon.â
âEveninâ mister.â He edged back a step and then stopped.
âItâs going to be cold tonight, lad. You’re welcome to come in for the night. There’s dinner if you’re hungry.â
And he opened the door wider so that a large patch of warm yellow light fell across the muddied cobblestones. The smell of hot bread and roast drifted by the boy.
He stared at the open door, suddenly frozen in that in-between place that wasn’t house and wasn’t street. The preacher man waited with a smile.
Click clack. Footsteps shuddered down the street. A shiver ran up Timonâs spine.
The policeman was coming.
First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)
Fork the GorkHere it is!!!
Wind spiraled frozen fractals and reddened Laineyâs cold-kissed nose.
Every breath crystalized in frozen puffs, and she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.
The sun sunk beneath the houses across the street, bathing the neighborhood in amber light, and Lainey hugged her knees to her chest as she watched the sunset from her perch in the porch swing.
It was Christmas Eve.
She balled her icy hands into fists, tucking them inside her coat pocket. Everywhere she looked, she saw joy, laughter, loveâŚ
She hated it.
Her father was sickâfacing a grim diagnosis, and the world just kept on turning.
Why should everyone else get to celebrate the closing of another year, a time for family and community, when she watched the life slowly being extinguished from her fatherâs bright eyes?
This year, for the first time, she didnât want to hear the carols, didnât want to open presents, didnât want to celebrate anything.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Probably yet another text, wishing her a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, when none were possible.
She pushed her feet against the wooden boards, setting the swing in motion and pulling a soft blanket over her lap, fighting sudden tears.
God, I donât want to do this anymore, she whispered to the sunset, letting out a shuddering breath, the water in her eyes blurring the Christmas lights across the street.
A lot of good the lights didâher world was still just as dark.
Her phone vibrated again, and she let out a frustrated sigh.
âI swear, if thereâs another text aboutââ she muttered through gritted teeth.
And then she caught her breath.
The text flashed across the screen. It was from Owen. Biting her lip, she opened the message with shaking fingers.
Hi, LaineyâŚI just wanted to check on you to see how youâre doing. I know this Christmas is probably really hard for you, so Iâm not going to wish you a Merry Christmas, since that might be a little impossible right now.Â
Lainey twisted her mouth into a wry smile, wiping another tear from the bridge of her nose.
I know we never really talk at school or anything, so this is a little random, but I know what it feels like to be where you are. Itâs going to be hard, itâs going to feel like the world is on your shoulders, but donât believe it. Iâve been praying for you ever since I heard about your Dad. Jesus loves you a lot, donât forget it.Â
Her shoulders shook from contained emotion, and her hand flew to her mouth.
Sheâd never even really talked to Owen before, and she hadnât even known he was a Christian. He was one of them, the nerds and the weirdos of the schoolâŚand Laineyâs friend group never associated with geeks.
Iâve been so judgemental.
All this time, sheâd avoided Owen like the plague, when he was so much more than his awkward looks and personality.
How ironic that he was the only one that really cared.
Her phone vibrated again, and she smiled as she saw Owen had sent her something else.
Do not gloat over me, my enemies! For though I fall, I will rise again. Though I sit in darkness, the LORD will be my light. Micah 7:8
It might feel really dark right now, but just remember that youâre not alone. And when you fall, you can get back up again.Â
Lainey reread the text over and over again, and each time, she felt warmth and light flooding her heart.
Maybe Christmas was different this year, but maybe it didnât have to be dark.
No matter how bad things looked, she now had embers of hope burning in her heart.
Because although she was sitting in darkness, the LORD would be her light.
This lady thrives on the divine grace of Faith and the rich embrace of caffeine.
I started something, but then I didnât finish it. Sorry, Iâll just skip this one.
"You're more boppable."
#AnduthForever (Lord Willing)
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