100 Word Song: Something New

  

                   My fiction writing has been put on hold lately because of the wonderful craziness in my life these days. But I couldn't resist linking up with the 100 Word Song this week. Lance has offered us Jimi Hendrix's “Are You Experienced” for inspiration. Mr. Hendrix would have been 70 years old this week. I give you 100 words of Fiction on Friday.

Something New

                   The hike had been a mistake.  She thought she was in shape. But the miles on the elliptical machine had not prepared her for the rocky terrain, the steepness of the trail or the thin air.

                   “It's only a few steps more,” he assured her, pausing as she gasped and stumbled.

                   “There,” he whispered as she reached the summit. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

                   She drank in the world below and forgot about her blisters and bruises and remembered the meaning of the word breathtaking.

                   “No Sheriff. I've never seen anything at all before.” 

Where's Vic?

        It's been a while since I've posted anything. Post ideas have flitted in and out of my head: posts about gratitude, posts about my distain for Black Friday, posts about wanting to give Thanksgiving its due before we steamroller it with the Christmas machine. Alas, I haven't worked up the motivation to write. I'd love to tell you that I've just been too wrapped up with writing or editing a novel to write. Alas, there has been very little writing that has made the journey from my brain to my finger tips lately. So if you're still out there and reading this post. Thanks for sticking with me.

        I woke up this morning and wrote in my journal. It was little more than a detailed “to do” list. But it had been a while since I did that. It felt good to be writing again. My life is only going to get busier in the weeks ahead. I've begun a new chapter in my creative life. Last week I had auditions for a new play. The turn out was beyond my expectations. I can't wait to start rehearsing this fantastic cast.

        But I really don't want to stop writing. I love the connections I've made with this blog. Two years ago I had never shared a piece of my fiction with anyone. Because of the this blog I began showing that side of myself to the world. The response was so encouraging and I have not intention of letting that slip away. So watch this space. I've slowed down in the blogging world. But I have no plans to stop.

A Lesson Learned

 

                   Many years ago, I walked into a yoga class and met a woman I had lived next door to as a child. I was new to the class and she assured me it was wonderful. “It really relaxes you and makes you feel at peace,” she said. “Not that you need that. You always seem so calm.”  It was then I knew that people who don't know me well, have no idea what I'm really like. Apparently I project a very calm exterior. My close friends and family will find that laughable. I am like a bundle of springs compressed in a tiny body. I throw myself into tasks and take the outcome to heart.  Most of the time it's fine. Tension fuels my crazy calendar of work, children's activities, theatre, writing and family life. But I do occasionally pay a price.

                   I've always considered myself politically moderate. But I've begun to realize that  I'm only a moderate by Massachusetts' standards. Compared other parts of the country I'm a bleeding heart liberal.  Four years ago on election night, I felt like a rubber band that had been stretched and stretched as I watched the returns. It looked like Obama would probably win, but I was afraid of being too cocky. I went to bed before the results were finalized and somehow managed to sleep.

                   By morning, it was clear that Obama would be our next president. It was also clear that I hadn't slept peacefully. I had clenched my jaw so hard in my sleep that I broke my tooth. It was the second of the four crowns I now have in my mouth—all from internalizing stress. I now carry an extra dental insurance policy, just for me. So, yes I need all the yoga I can get.

                   Last night a relative of mine wrote on her Facebook wall that she was, “Doing yoga, drinking wine, and making a care package for my sister at college. Sending donations to Red Cross Hurricane Relief and Planned Parenthood. Controlling the things I can control.” Clearly, at half my age, she is  twice as smart. Today I'm going make pumpkin pancakes, go to the chiropractor, walk to the polls with my kids in the autumn sunshine, and do some work for my upcoming show. If there's time, I may get out my yoga mat. Controlling the things we can control. Brilliant.

Election Season Pride

 

                   We were driving to school earlier this week when we heard on the radio that Senate Candidate Elizabeth Warren would be appearing in our hometown that day.

                   “Mom! Did you hear that? Elizabeth Warren is going to be in Brockton today!”

                   My ten-year-old son Owen has been fascinated by the elections this year.

                   “Want me to find out where she's going to be?”

                   “Could we go?”

                   “Sure. As long as it isn't during school. I'll check her website for information.”

                   Owen slumped back in his seat pretending to faint from excitement.

                   The appearance was right after school at a local Greek restaurant. Owen was enraptured by Ms. Warren's stump speech. He waited patiently for our chance to speak to her. She was very gracious and shook both of my boys hands and addressed them each by name.

James, Elizabeth Warren and Owen.

                   I'm excited that my son has shown so much interest in the elections. But the vitriol he's exposed to bothers me. He's completely given up his morning diet of PBS Kids shows for the local news and “Good Morning America”. He hears the attack ads and asks, “Is that true?” Well yes. And no. At ten years old the truth is black and white. He doesn't understand the gray areas. He doesn't understand what happens when quotes are taken out of context or statistics are manipulated. And I doubt I do a very good job of explaining it between tasks during our early morning rush. I've cautioned him about making snap decisions about people who support different candidates than he does. 

The boys with their autograph.

                   For now, I'm proud that he's interested. He isn't old enough to vote yet, but he's smart enough to know that whoever is elected will have an impact on his world. He cares about who is going to be shaping our country. When I vote on Tuesday, I'll be taking my kids with me. I encourage you to do the same.

Trifecta: Heart of Gold

                   Smith studied the call girl.  She was perfect for the job. Her wavy bronze hair flirted with her bare shoulders. Her emerald eyes glowed in contrast to her perfect olive skin.

                   “Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

                   “Why do men usually bring you to hotel rooms Angelica,” he answered holding back a sneer.

                   “Most men just want someone who doesn't ask for anything more complicated than money. Tell me why I'm here tonight.  It's still early. I can find a John that who won't play games. A girl has to make a living.”

                   He tossed her heavy bundle of twenty dollar bills.

                   “Something tells me you aren't here for a straight lay.”

                   “Smart and sexy.” He handed her a photograph. “Do you know who this is?”

                   She shook her head.

                   “That's Judge Lawrence Steele. A rising star in the judicial sky. My associates want to make sure he doesn't rise any higher. We want you to seduce His Honor.”

                   She raised her eyebrows and handed him back the picture.

                   “I think you have the wrong girl Mr. Smith.”

                   “You're perfect for this Angelica. Judge Larry was head over heels for a girl who looked like you back in college. It didn't work out and he ended up marrying a blond homecoming queen from Oklahoma.”

                   “If you think he'd be that easily seduced, he's probably cheated already. Why fake it?”

                   “We've looked. He's as faithful as a dog, loves his kids, pays his taxes. The bastard doesn't even cheat at golf. So I'm offering you fifty thousand up front and fifty thousand after.”

                   She was silent for a moment as she let the idea of one hundred thousand dollars roll around her brain.

                   “No.”

                   “No? What kind of a whore turns down a hundred grand?”

                   “Mr. Smith, you're the only whore in this room. I'm an honest hooker.”

I'm linking up this week with Trifecta. Here's this week's challenge:

WHORE
1: a woman who engages in sexual acts for money: prostitute; also: a promiscuous or immoral woman
2: a male who engages in sexual acts for money
3: a venal or unscrupulous person

Please remember:

• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.

• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.

• The word itself needs to be included in your response.

• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 

• Only one entry per writer.