Yeah Write!'s Stories

The "When Life Gives You Lemons" Challenge {Presented to You By Yeah Write! on the Advent of her 100th Ficlet!}

2008-04-03T02:04:25Z

Well it’s about time, isn’t it! It’s taken me many moons, but I’ve finally reached 99 (this one makes 100) ficlets! And to celebrate, I will propose a challenge! So I, Yeah Write!, present to you, the lovely and talented ficleteers, the “When Life Gives You Lemons Challenge!”

Now, we all know that the old adage goes, “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” So here’s the challenge:

1. Use the phrase “when life gives you lemons _” and fill in the blank with your own ending! (Make that your title)
2. Write a ficlet expounding on the saying you created.
3. Because I do not want to make this too hard and then be all sad that no one enters, you may write any length, style, point of view, tense, etc. that you want. (Please no ficlets in foreign languages.) Basically, be creative, have fun, and expect results by the end of April or early May.

The Blue Meander: Saving Miss Gloria

2008-04-03T01:38:24Z

The winds picked up and lightning slashed the skies. I felt my hands weakening by the moment. “Cap’n!” I cried out for help.The wind howled around my face and I was sure that no one had heard my pitiful cries. I began to fear for my life as I felt death breathing down my neck.

Suddenly, as my left arm wilted, I felt warm arms around my waist. I looked down to see the tomato-red face of the Captain himself, grasping me tightly. “I gotcha Miz Gloria,” he said, gasping for air. He unsheathed his dagger and pierced the sail beside us. Then, like a legendary pirate-hero, swung himself, holding me by my tattered petticoats, onto the sail and we wriggled down awkwardly.

When we finally reached the deck safely, there was a mixed reaction from the crew. Some men cheered for our safe return and some pondered the missing ring, but most were too busy staring at my ripped garments.

The captain shouted, “Start lookin’ fer that ring, dammit!”
“Yeah! An’ quit starin’ at meh like that!” I yelled, a bit discomfitted.

An Extraterrestrial View of Earth {Storykeeper's Birthday Challenge}

2008-04-02T22:27:21Z

“Look at all the stars! They look like pretty blue candles in the sky!”
“Yes, but some are not stars at all. See that little circle of light? It is a planet called Earth.”
“Really, mom? You mean there are other places out there just like here? So are there people there just like us?”
“Well, songs and ancient legends suggest that a semi-advanced species called humans inhabit Earth, causing destruction to all that they come in contact with. We’ve attempted to visit them many times, but it has become too dangerous…”
“So, humans are evil?”
“No. They just have inferior brains, I suppose.”
“So do you really think they exist, Mom?”
“I always have. In fact, I bet there are humans looking up at us right now. But one day there may not be. If they continue on their destructive path, there may not be an Earth left at all.”
“Well, maybe it’s my destiny to help them! Maybe I could be the one to save their planet from utter destruction!”
“I hope so, son… for their sake.”

Destiny

2008-04-01T00:37:46Z

In the brightly colored basket, it patiently waits with anticipation and fear. It knows what is coming—knows its destiny. Pitter-patter. With its large ears it hears little feet gallop excitedly down stairs. It waits.

Its tiny blue eye stares beyond it’s plastic wrapper, still waiting, as the feet draw nearer. It sees the beast. The shiny confetti that once protected it is now flung across the room. Its hollow chest apprehensively beats, waiting. It wants to hop away. A cardboard prison restrains it. Destiny is near. Out of the corner of its gumdrop eye, it sees a face, armed with a mouthful of metal. Panic!

Riiiip! Its big, brown ears hear the tearing of cardboard. Warm hands grab it. A wet nose sniffs it. Metallic mouth… CHOMP !

Destiny.

It's About Time

2008-03-30T03:03:37Z

Time flies, wasted, by wrinkled faces at a long journey’s end…

Never Let Love In...

2008-02-21T03:54:40Z

And when you let love in, you let everything else in. You let hatred in too.
I don’t know what it is but when you hold my hand I hate you. It’s because I know what you’ll do. I know what you all do. I know what you’ve already done.
You make things so hard. Because I once loved you and you didn’t love me back. Because now you love me and I can’t love you back. Or won’t. Can’t because I won’t because I never choke on words when I’m around you and my heart doesn’t flutter when I see you. Because when I pass you in the hall, I don’t feel your warmth. No more than I do anybody else’s. Because I am cold and you are cold and everybody is cold. To me.
And I see other people in love. They say they have something special but they have the same thing as everyone else but under a different pseudonym.
We don’t have anything special. We’re just like them and it’s killing me because we can’t live under illusions. I can’t because I am broken because you don’t love until its too late and I may never love again…

One is the Lonliest Number {LoA Challenge}

2008-02-21T00:31:15Z

Melinda ran home, claiming that she needed to feed her dog, the same old excuse she always used. I sometimes wondered if she fed her dog four or five meals a day.

Kim said that her mother was calling her for dinner. No one else heard her mother, but I knew she would just pretend she had “super-sonic hearing” or something, so I just let her go.

Carl and Jim were little. They got scared and begged us to take them home; Lisa quickly volunteered to do so.

Ben and I remained, Ben standing far behind me, still whistling the Star Wars theme. He was to the part that was always played for the Sith whenever they did something really evil. Wether by coincidence or not, Ben always seemed to whistle that part when Shane was around.

Standing all alone in the face of inevitable danger, I began to think just how easily Shane could crush my tiny bones. I had foolishly believed that my comrades would stand with me. They say there’s safety in numbers, but one is a number and I know there’s no safety in this.

Southern Fried Cliche Translation for the Dialect-Impaired :]

2008-02-16T05:26:53Z

“Sit down, children. Your grandpa is going to tell you a story,” the old man said to his grandchildren. “Now, when I was about your age,” he began, pointing to the oldest of them, ” I had a friend named Bill. Everywhere Bill went he carried a brown bag with him. Bill never told anybody what was in the bag; he always just said it was a secret. Every day, my friends and I got increasingly curious about the bag. We knew whatever was in there must have been alive because it tried to move around and made strange noises. So one day, we planned to trick Bill. We slipped a little too much tabasco sauce into his jambalaya, and, before you knew it, he was screaming that his tongue was on fire! We openned the bag to see what was inside, and a bobcat jumped out and attacked Joe! When Bill saw that we let his bobcat out, he got so angry that he didn’t know what to do! And that’s how we invented the saying you let the cat out of the bag,” he said, “Now, did I ever tell you about the time we aired Bill’s dirty laundry?”

Southern Fried Cliche

2008-02-16T05:14:58Z

“Sit down, chil’run. Yo’ gran’pa gon tell y’all a stora,” the old man said to his grandchildren. “Naw, when I wud ‘bout yo’ age,” he began, pointing to the oldest of them, ” I had a fren’ nemmed Bill an’ e’rywhere Bill wen’ he done carried a bron bag wid ‘im. Bill ne’er tol’ nobody what wad in dat bag. He always jus’ sed it wad a secret. E’ry day, me an’ mah fren’s got mo’ and mo’ curious ‘bout dat bag. Naw, we know’d whatevah wad in dere musta been ‘live cuz it’d try ta’ move ‘round an’ it sho’ did make some strenge noises. So one day, we done planned ta’ trick ol’ Bill. We put a lil’ too much tabascah in hid jambalaya an’ befo’ you know it he wad hollerin’ ‘bout hid tongue bein’ on fiyah! Den we done open’d dat bag an’ a big ol’ bobcat came jump out an’ done attack’d po’ ol’ Joe! When Bill see’d dat, he got so mad he did’n know what ta’ do! An’ dat’s how we come’d ta’ say dat ya’ let da bobcat outta da bag,” he said, “Naw, did I evah tell y’all ‘bout da time we done air’d good ol’ Bill’s dirty laundry?”

Do You Know What It Means... (stream of conciousness editted to fit proper length)

2008-02-14T06:19:23Z

Is it just hitting me? Is it just setting in that this is not home? This can never be home. Home is where the heart is, and when I evacuated I left my heart behind.
I loathe the word refugee because that was my name for a few months. I was an outsider. I will forever be an outsider. They all grew up together without me.
What right do I have to complain? Some people move twelve times before they hit high school and I’ve moved once. But I was never going to be the “new girl.”
I have great friends whom I love with my whole heart. Sometimes I wonder if they care about me as much as I do about them. I wonder if the girl I consider my best friend would consider me hers or if I’m fooling myself.
I want to go back just for one day but not as a visitor, because I am a visitor wherever I go now.
I want to go to the former site of my elementary school. I want to stand where monkey bars once stood. I want to play with the memory of lost friends.
I want a scar, a tatoo, something to show the world.

My Life. My Philosophy. Six Words.

2008-02-11T01:51:59Z

Smile:
Life ends
when you stop.

Never Let A Boy Hold Your Hand

2008-02-07T01:43:14Z

Never let a boy hold your hand.
Don’t even let him touch you – not “accidentally” either.
Because, when you let him touch you, that game that you’ve been playing with his head – that game that makes you feel so great but so bad – yeah! that game! – that game is over!
Suddenly he’s won.
He’s got you right where he wants you.
You had him in your intricately weaved web of deceit and trickery (and fun!) but now he’s escaped. Now he’s in charge.
He has you and everytime you see him you say “hi” and he ignores you.
Or he teases you.
He plays mind games! Hey, that’s our job!
Everytime you see him you want to hold his hand again but then you say something so damn stupid!
He laughs. You giggle a little bit. Why, Lord? Why am I so inept at life! you proclaim.
And the good Lord doesn’t answer because you can’t hear Him because you shouted that in the middle of the cafeteria and now everybody’s pointing and laughing.
You want to cry. You want to run away. But then he takes your hand. Holds it in his.
Just smile.

Welcome to the Blue Meander

2008-01-21T07:26:18Z

I was glad to leave the port. It smelled of salt, but not the good kind. Not the briney scent that breezes past your nose on a sunny morning at sea. It was the kind that was mixed with the scents of sweat, urine, and the hobos and scoundrels who secreted it. It was overrun with vermin and there was no money or food to be gained.

Besides that, I was young and eager to explore. I had been a dishwasher for much of my youth, and my mother washed dishes before me; it was to be my destiny. I had never left Port Fleming before, and I was quite apprehensive as I followed Sir Corbluff onto the mighty Blue Meander, his British trade ship. He seemed to command an awful lot of respect. Every swarthy deckhand as well as the captain himself bowed upon his arrival aboard the ship. His confident swagger intimidated even the burliest of men, but it empowered me.

He introduced me as Lady Gloria Bonham. Every man removed his hat and bowed to me; I had never felt so dignified in my life.

Hope Was Lost. {Miss Elsha Hawk's Place Challenge}

2008-01-18T03:46:58Z

A tear fell from my eye as I grasped the doorknob with my gloved hand. My tears had been collecting in my goggles; they felt so cold against my face.

I stood outside the door, staring at the name above it. It was barely legible through the layer of mold that covered it. My mind said to go in, but my body refused; Two parts of my heart were waging war. Maybe that’s why my chest felt so heavy.

I finally convinced myself to go in—to try to find a remnant of hope in a sea of desperation. I enterred with nostalgia; the classroom looked so different, but I thought for a moment that I could hear familiar voices. Soon, though, all I could here was water—unpitying waves slamming against the walls. The watermark was quite prominent, taunting me from above my head. My nostrils were flooded with a fowl odor. The scent permeated my respirator and tickled my tastebuds, leaving the unpleasant taste of soggy textbooks and mold in my mouth and on my mind for many years to come. At this moment, Hope was lost.

A Little Inspiration Quiz: Yeah Write Tells All (or atleast 7)

2008-01-07T00:43:57Z

...

“Crank Dat?” I thought to myself, “What could that possibly mean?” I circled “No” and continued to the next question.

To this question I answered “Ants on a Log.” I suppose it was too ambiguous. It implied that I disliked celery and peanut butter and topped with raisins but I quite enjoy that snacktime favorite. Next question.

“Ah… It was the summer of 1937, I believe. We were holding hands on the pier in our bunny PJs, eating ants on a log…” As I jotted that down, I thought, “I do love that memory! Who cares if it’s not mine!”

“Corniest pick-up line? But so many have been used on me…” I thought as I read the 4th question. “I’ll skip it!”

“Two?” I thought, “Why just meet two when you can go to Disney World and meet ALL of them? I’ll skip this one, too”

“One that I get to sing about balogna in!” It was always my wish, even though I chickened out the 1st time!

“Deoxyribose, Nutmeg, and Pamela!” I answered, becoming increasingly frustrated, “What kind of math test is this anyway?”