August 2014 Issue of
The Scribblers Newsletter
Welcome to the August issue of The Scribblers. In this issue we have new writing prompts, a story by John Matthews and part five of the story "Sisters" by Jamie Baker. Also a look at one of the top 10 classic American authors and a New Writer contest.
August Writing Prompts
Each month we try to provide prompts for you to use. Pick one or more and write 500 to 1,000 words using the prompt/s as the basis of your story. Above all, have fun with it.
1. Jim drove the old back road with only one headlight lighting his way. Just as he made the turn into the lane leading to his house, he heard a thud and felt a bump. He had hit something. Or someone.
2. The wind rattled the windows and shutters. Lucy heard a loud crack followed by a crashing sound against her roof and footsteps on her stairway.
Sisters part 5
After the Christmas holidays, my life suddenly got a lot
better. My brothers started going to the
Boys club after school and Mom got a waitressing job at Sizzlers. While the boys did all their yelling and
screaming at the Boys club, I had the apartment to myself. Mom left notes for me almost every day,
chores she wanted done and instructions for simple dinners. Dad picked up the boys up on his way home
from work and helped me make dinner.
After dinner I cleaned up the kitchen and then I could do whatever I
wanted until10:30. That was when Mom usually got home.
One night, down at the Marci and Ginger’s apartment, Roy
Brown was there and another guy everyone called Cartwheel. Marci said she needed to go grocery shopping,
so we all went down to the Safeway.
“I feel like having a steak.” Roy said, yanking a cart out
of the cart corral. “I think I’ll get
one. Maybe a nice porterhouse. Anybody else want steak for dinner?”
Cartwheel put his arm on Marci’s arm, “Get your own cart,
Marci,” he said and pulled a second cart out of the line.
“Carol,” Ginger said, hanging back with the Marci and
Cartwheel, “stay with us.”
Rolling up and down the aisles, the four of us goofed
around, laughing and being a little rowdy.
Marci left a package on sanitary napkins in the bread section. I didn’t see Roy Brown again until we got to
the meat section.
A few minutes later, with Cartwheel pushing Marci’s half-full
cart, we made our way towards the checkout counters. Roy Brown was already there, in line behind a
stooped old man who was carefully placing each of his items on the conveyor
belt. Cartwheel went to another
register, getting in line behind a couple with two little kids. The conveyor belt was crowded with disposable
diapers and boxes of breakfast cereal.
“Will they bust him?
Do you think they’ll call the cops?” Ginger asked.
“I’d be surprised if they didn’t,” Cartwheel said, “Fucking
Roy Brown. Always thinks he can break
the rules and get away with it.”
“He wasn’t always like that.
Not when we were in school.”
“You went to school with him?” I asked Marci. “I thought he
was from Reno.”
“His Dad’s lives in Reno, he’s a pit boss there. Mostly, Roy grew up here, lived with his mom
and his grandparents, over on Seven Hills Road. We went to the school together. Third grade right through high school.” Marci
answered.
“Yeah, he was a little runt and a crybaby. Couldn’t play any sports for shit. Then in high school, he got a weed connection
and suddenly he was all cool.”
“Kind of a late bloomer, huh?” Ginger laughed
.
Glimmer Train New Writer Award
Upcoming deadline: 8/31/14
New Writers, go here
1st place $1,500 & publication in Issue 95. Deadline: 8/31.
Note: New writers are especially welcome at GT, but the Short Story Award for New Writers is the contest that is open only to emerging writers.
The 1st place winner in the last New Writer contest was that author's very first story accepted for publication.
Second- and 3rd-place winners receive $500/$300, respectively, or, if accepted for publication, $700.
Winners and finalists will be announced in the November bulletin, and finalists will be contacted directly the previous week.
Most submissions run 1,500 - 6,000 words, but can be as long as 12,000.
Reading fee is $15 per story. Please, no more than 3 submissions per category.
Your
Call is Important to Us
by John Matthews
Jason Sweigart cupped his hands around his eyes to peer into
the window of the F-150 pickup. A
cellphone lay on the passenger seat. A
cellphone or an IPhone or an IPad or a SmartPhone. Jason wasn’t sure what it was called, but he
recognized it right away. Its plastic
case bore vivid black, orange, and white tiger stripes. He had seen it often on the bar at the
Rockhill Tavern in Conestoga, at the
stool where Janelle Wilson sat. He
didn’t recognize the pickup, but there was no doubt it was Janelle’s phone on
the seat.
Of course, he thought. It must be Hank
Stauffer’s truck. And she wasn’t Janelle
Wilson anymore. She was now Janelle Stauffer.
He stepped back from the truck and looked
around. The truck was parked near a
trailhead at Susquehannock State Park.
The trail snaked down a steep bank toward the Susquehanna River. The trail had been overgrown with brush until recently
when the discovery of eagle nests had started to attract more visitors to the
park. Now the path was open and well
worn. But there was nobody around
today. No sign of Janelle or Hank.
For some reason, any time Jason was close
to a vehicle, his hand tended to drift to a door handle. The door was unlocked and almost seemed to
open by itself. Reasons for his actions
seemed to form in Jason’s mind almost
every time he moved. It was a habit he
had developed because he often found himself needing to make excuses for actions
that others found odd.
Just doing my job, he thought. I’m a Park Ranger. I’m supposed to look out for the safety of
park users and their belongings.
But Jason reasoned that he was doing
things a Ranger had previously
done. He had filed a grievance asking to
be promoted. Because he was not
performing all the duties usually expected of a Ranger and since he was technically
not qualified to be a Ranger, having failed the civil service exam for the job, the
grievance was denied. He filed another
grievance, pointing out that an unfilled vacancy existed . If the Department could not fill the job but
was still arranging for some of the duties to be performed, the person
performing the duties should at least be temporarily paid at the Ranger
level. In a mediated settlement to this
grievance the Park agreed to pay Jason at the higher level until such time as
the Ranger job could be filled. Part of
the agreement was that Jason would have no law enforcement powers and would not wear a Ranger uniform.
The cellphone was now in Jason’s
hand. Just holding it brought back
memories of sitting with Janelle at the tavern.
The reflections from the revolving disco ball over the bar created
changing sparkles in her hair and gave her an angelic appearance. Jason was always so cool and impressive at
those times. And funny. Janelle would laugh at his remarks even when he wasn’t trying to be funny. He must be a natural.
And she had helped him prepare for the
Ranger examination by tossing out questions about hypothetical park occurrences
and daring him to react properly. She
had always seemed to take great delight in his original answers. But Jason had mistaken being funny with being
correct. He thought if he could
entertain the examiners as he was entertaining Janelle, he would receive a high
grade on the oral exam. It didn’t work
out that way
She shouldn’t leave the truck unlocked, he
thought. I’d better take custody of the
phone and hold it for safe keeping. But
how to let her know I have it? I’d leave
a note but I have no pencil or paper.
He decided to just wait here for her. He hadn’t had the chance to talk with Janelle
since her wedding. If, by chance, she
had discovered Hank Stauffer was not the catch she had expected she might need
to vent a little. It would be good for
him to be here if he was needed.
But wait! What if it wasn’t Janelle who had
driven the truck here? Even if she and
Hank were here together, it wouldn’t be the friendly reunion he had pictured.
He looked around. A big pine stood at the edge of the
clearing. Lots of lower branches had
broken off leaving stubs ideal for climbing up into the thicker foliage. He decided to climb the tree and wait. If
Janelle returned alone he’d climb down and be the hero for protecting her
phone. If it was Hank, or Hank and
Janelle together, he’d wait until they drove off. He’d look Janelle up later to return the
phone.
He looked down. He had a good view of the truck. Uh oh!
He had left the tiger striped cellphone sitting on the truck’s
hood. His own car was parked only a short distance away. If Hank returned, with or without Janelle,
that wouldn’t do. The whole plan
required that he present the phone to Janelle when they were alone.
He climbed down, reversed his steps, put
the phone carefully in his pocket, moved his car to a more secluded spot, and
climbed the tree again. He had ripped his
clothes, scratched his face, and he was tired.
Being a temporary sort of Park Ranger was hard work. It was after quitting time. He could put in for overtime. He sat back to wait.
He was tired, but alert. Patience was
one of his strengths. He was glad he had
limited himself to two beers at lunch from the six pack in his car trunk. Sitting on the branch reminded him of the
nature lore he passed on to children who visited the park. Yes, bears sleep in trees. So do possums, raccoons, and birds. Why don’t they fall out? Just like humans, they aren’t unconscious
while asleep. They still are aware of
their surroundings. Their sense of
balance still protects them from falling.
Jason was having a pleasant dream. The lilting tune Music Box Dancer played in
his head. He had the soothing feeling of
falling. He laughed to himself. He knew it was a dream and he remembered that
crazy superstition that if you didn’t wake up from such a dream the fall could
kill you.
He lay supine under the tree, slowly
regaining his senses. It was dark. Stars shone through the boughs of the big
pine tree.
The Music Box Dancer still played in
his head. No, not exactly in his
head. More like in his pocket. It was the cell phone ringing.
He dug the phone out of his pocket with
the hand that was not entangled in brambles.
He looked at the glowing screen but had no idea how to answer the thing.
“What do I do now?” he said to
himself. “There are so many
buttons. Which one should I press?”
He must have been speaking aloud because
Janelle’s voice seemed to be guiding him sweetly and gently.
“Don’t press anything you idiot! Just
talk. Where are you? And why did you steal my phone?”
“I’m lying in a bed of something with lots
of thorns, but I’m looking at a beautiful starry sky and listening to the voice
of an angel. And your phone isn’t
stolen. I’m guarding it for you.”
“Well, I’ve reported it to the
police. Now that you’ve answered it,
they can track it by gps”
“Can’t you call them off somehow?”
He heard Janelle speaking to someone in
the background, apologizing for a mistake.
The phone went dead.
A few minutes later The Music Box Dancer began to play again. “Okay, they’re gone. Don’t worry, I didn’t mention your name but
they’ve probably pinpointed your location by now. They might still come around to check. You’re still at the place where you found the
phone, aren’t you?”
“Pretty close.”
“Good, I was afraid you might be at the
tavern with some stupid idea that I’d show up there.”
“I could still get there.”
“What part of ‘stupid’ didn’t you
understand?”
“Sorry, I’m still a little disoriented.”
“Look, do this. Go unlock the park restroom.”
“It’s already unlocked. I didn’t lock it at the end of the day.”
“No, it’s locked. You never unlocked it this morning like you
were supposed to. When Hank and I got
back from our hike I needed it pretty bad.
I was furious when I found it locked.
But I didn’t tell Hank. Just put
the phone in the restroom and I’ll tell Hank I left it there by mistake.”
“I can bring it to you.”
“No.
Believe me, Jason. You don’t want
Hank to know what you did.”
“You’re a fast thinker, Janelle. You’d make a good Park Ranger.”
“That idea’s about to come true. I got a call today. Your manager got approval
to fill the vacant Ranger job, and he chose me.”
“But
how did….”
“All that work I did helping you practice
for the Ranger test. Some of it must
have rubbed off. I passed the test with
a pretty good score.”
“I’m happy for you, Janelle. But just one thing.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t leave your cell phone in an
unlocked truck.”
Janelle’s answer was lost as the cell
phone battery died.
THE END
Welcome to the August issue of The Scribblers. In this issue we have new writing prompts, a story by John Matthews and part five of the story "Sisters" by Jamie Baker. Also a look at one of the top 10 classic American authors and a New Writer contest.
August Writing Prompts
Each month we try to provide prompts for you to use. Pick one or more and write 500 to 1,000 words using the prompt/s as the basis of your story. Above all, have fun with it.
1. Jim drove the old back road with only one headlight lighting his way. Just as he made the turn into the lane leading to his house, he heard a thud and felt a bump. He had hit something. Or someone.
2. The wind rattled the windows and shutters. Lucy heard a loud crack followed by a crashing sound against her roof and footsteps on her stairway.
Sisters part 5
After the Christmas holidays, my life suddenly got a lot
better. My brothers started going to the
Boys club after school and Mom got a waitressing job at Sizzlers. While the boys did all their yelling and
screaming at the Boys club, I had the apartment to myself. Mom left notes for me almost every day,
chores she wanted done and instructions for simple dinners. Dad picked up the boys up on his way home
from work and helped me make dinner.
After dinner I cleaned up the kitchen and then I could do whatever I
wanted until10:30. That was when Mom usually got home.
One night, down at the Marci and Ginger’s apartment, Roy
Brown was there and another guy everyone called Cartwheel. Marci said she needed to go grocery shopping,
so we all went down to the Safeway.
“I feel like having a steak.” Roy said, yanking a cart out
of the cart corral. “I think I’ll get
one. Maybe a nice porterhouse. Anybody else want steak for dinner?”
Cartwheel put his arm on Marci’s arm, “Get your own cart,
Marci,” he said and pulled a second cart out of the line.
“Carol,” Ginger said, hanging back with the Marci and
Cartwheel, “stay with us.”
Rolling up and down the aisles, the four of us goofed
around, laughing and being a little rowdy.
Marci left a package on sanitary napkins in the bread section. I didn’t see Roy Brown again until we got to
the meat section.
A few minutes later, with Cartwheel pushing Marci’s half-full
cart, we made our way towards the checkout counters. Roy Brown was already there, in line behind a
stooped old man who was carefully placing each of his items on the conveyor
belt. Cartwheel went to another
register, getting in line behind a couple with two little kids. The conveyor belt was crowded with disposable
diapers and boxes of breakfast cereal.
“Will they bust him?
Do you think they’ll call the cops?” Ginger asked.
“I’d be surprised if they didn’t,” Cartwheel said, “Fucking
Roy Brown. Always thinks he can break
the rules and get away with it.”
“He wasn’t always like that.
Not when we were in school.”
“You went to school with him?” I asked Marci. “I thought he
was from Reno.”
“His Dad’s lives in Reno, he’s a pit boss there. Mostly, Roy grew up here, lived with his mom
and his grandparents, over on Seven Hills Road. We went to the school together. Third grade right through high school.” Marci
answered.
“Yeah, he was a little runt and a crybaby. Couldn’t play any sports for shit. Then in high school, he got a weed connection
and suddenly he was all cool.”
“Kind of a late bloomer, huh?” Ginger laughed
.
Glimmer Train New Writer Award
Upcoming deadline: 8/31/14
New Writers, go here
1st place $1,500 & publication in Issue 95. Deadline: 8/31.
Note: New writers are especially welcome at GT, but the Short Story Award for New Writers is the contest that is open only to emerging writers.
The 1st place winner in the last New Writer contest was that author's very first story accepted for publication.
Second- and 3rd-place winners receive $500/$300, respectively, or, if accepted for publication, $700.
Winners and finalists will be announced in the November bulletin, and finalists will be contacted directly the previous week.
Most submissions run 1,500 - 6,000 words, but can be as long as 12,000.
Reading fee is $15 per story. Please, no more than 3 submissions per category.
Your
Call is Important to Us
by John Matthews
Jason Sweigart cupped his hands around his eyes to peer into
the window of the F-150 pickup. A
cellphone lay on the passenger seat. A
cellphone or an IPhone or an IPad or a SmartPhone. Jason wasn’t sure what it was called, but he
recognized it right away. Its plastic
case bore vivid black, orange, and white tiger stripes. He had seen it often on the bar at the
Rockhill Tavern in Conestoga, at the
stool where Janelle Wilson sat. He
didn’t recognize the pickup, but there was no doubt it was Janelle’s phone on
the seat.
Of course, he thought. It must be Hank
Stauffer’s truck. And she wasn’t Janelle
Wilson anymore. She was now Janelle Stauffer.
He stepped back from the truck and looked
around. The truck was parked near a
trailhead at Susquehannock State Park.
The trail snaked down a steep bank toward the Susquehanna River. The trail had been overgrown with brush until recently
when the discovery of eagle nests had started to attract more visitors to the
park. Now the path was open and well
worn. But there was nobody around
today. No sign of Janelle or Hank.
For some reason, any time Jason was close
to a vehicle, his hand tended to drift to a door handle. The door was unlocked and almost seemed to
open by itself. Reasons for his actions
seemed to form in Jason’s mind almost
every time he moved. It was a habit he
had developed because he often found himself needing to make excuses for actions
that others found odd.
Just doing my job, he thought. I’m a Park Ranger. I’m supposed to look out for the safety of
park users and their belongings.
Technically, Jason wasn’t a Park
Ranger. But he felt no guilt in calling
himself one. He was employed as a
custodial worker at a park complex, a group of three parks in the
Lancaster/York area overseen by one manager.
The personnel staffing plan for the complex also included one Park
Ranger. The Ranger job had been vacant
for a while due to budget shortages.
Jason had been instructed to perform some of the duties usually assigned
to the Ranger. Monitoring park usage,
answering questions of park users, checking locks on buildings and gates. He did not have the law enforcement
authority of a Ranger. He could not
issue citations or make arrests. The
Park Manager did not consider him a Ranger, just a custodial worker assigned
some additional work that custodial workers in other parks often performed.
But Jason reasoned that he was doing
things a Ranger had previously
done. He had filed a grievance asking to
be promoted. Because he was not
performing all the duties usually expected of a Ranger and since he was technically
not qualified to be a Ranger, having failed the civil service exam for the job, the
grievance was denied. He filed another
grievance, pointing out that an unfilled vacancy existed . If the Department could not fill the job but
was still arranging for some of the duties to be performed, the person
performing the duties should at least be temporarily paid at the Ranger
level. In a mediated settlement to this
grievance the Park agreed to pay Jason at the higher level until such time as
the Ranger job could be filled. Part of
the agreement was that Jason would have no law enforcement powers and would not wear a Ranger uniform.
The cellphone was now in Jason’s
hand. Just holding it brought back
memories of sitting with Janelle at the tavern.
The reflections from the revolving disco ball over the bar created
changing sparkles in her hair and gave her an angelic appearance. Jason was always so cool and impressive at
those times. And funny. Janelle would laugh at his remarks even when he wasn’t trying to be funny. He must be a natural.
And she had helped him prepare for the
Ranger examination by tossing out questions about hypothetical park occurrences
and daring him to react properly. She
had always seemed to take great delight in his original answers. But Jason had mistaken being funny with being
correct. He thought if he could
entertain the examiners as he was entertaining Janelle, he would receive a high
grade on the oral exam. It didn’t work
out that way
She shouldn’t leave the truck unlocked, he
thought. I’d better take custody of the
phone and hold it for safe keeping. But
how to let her know I have it? I’d leave
a note but I have no pencil or paper.
He decided to just wait here for her. He hadn’t had the chance to talk with Janelle
since her wedding. If, by chance, she
had discovered Hank Stauffer was not the catch she had expected she might need
to vent a little. It would be good for
him to be here if he was needed.
But wait! What if it wasn’t Janelle who had
driven the truck here? Even if she and
Hank were here together, it wouldn’t be the friendly reunion he had pictured.
He looked around. A big pine stood at the edge of the
clearing. Lots of lower branches had
broken off leaving stubs ideal for climbing up into the thicker foliage. He decided to climb the tree and wait. If
Janelle returned alone he’d climb down and be the hero for protecting her
phone. If it was Hank, or Hank and
Janelle together, he’d wait until they drove off. He’d look Janelle up later to return the
phone.
He had to wade through some brambles to
reach the tree trunk, and the limb stubs were not exactly smooth ladder
rungs. But soon he found a high hidden
branch, smooth enough to sit on comfortably leaning against the trunk.
He looked down. He had a good view of the truck. Uh oh!
He had left the tiger striped cellphone sitting on the truck’s
hood. His own car was parked only a short distance away. If Hank returned, with or without Janelle,
that wouldn’t do. The whole plan
required that he present the phone to Janelle when they were alone.
He climbed down, reversed his steps, put
the phone carefully in his pocket, moved his car to a more secluded spot, and
climbed the tree again. He had ripped his
clothes, scratched his face, and he was tired.
Being a temporary sort of Park Ranger was hard work. It was after quitting time. He could put in for overtime. He sat back to wait.
He was tired, but alert. Patience was
one of his strengths. He was glad he had
limited himself to two beers at lunch from the six pack in his car trunk. Sitting on the branch reminded him of the
nature lore he passed on to children who visited the park. Yes, bears sleep in trees. So do possums, raccoons, and birds. Why don’t they fall out? Just like humans, they aren’t unconscious
while asleep. They still are aware of
their surroundings. Their sense of
balance still protects them from falling.
Damn!
Why did he think of that beer?
Now he wished he’d brought a can along from the car. Or two.
_____________
Jason was having a pleasant dream. The lilting tune Music Box Dancer played in
his head. He had the soothing feeling of
falling. He laughed to himself. He knew it was a dream and he remembered that
crazy superstition that if you didn’t wake up from such a dream the fall could
kill you.
A second later he landed with a
thump. It didn’t kill him. The thicket of brambles broke his fall but
inflicted some more rips and scratches.
He lay supine under the tree, slowly
regaining his senses. It was dark. Stars shone through the boughs of the big
pine tree.
The Music Box Dancer still played in
his head. No, not exactly in his
head. More like in his pocket. It was the cell phone ringing.
He dug the phone out of his pocket with
the hand that was not entangled in brambles.
He looked at the glowing screen but had no idea how to answer the thing.
“What do I do now?” he said to
himself. “There are so many
buttons. Which one should I press?”
He must have been speaking aloud because
Janelle’s voice seemed to be guiding him sweetly and gently.
“Don’t press anything you idiot! Just
talk. Where are you? And why did you steal my phone?”
“I’m lying in a bed of something with lots
of thorns, but I’m looking at a beautiful starry sky and listening to the voice
of an angel. And your phone isn’t
stolen. I’m guarding it for you.”
“Well, I’ve reported it to the
police. Now that you’ve answered it,
they can track it by gps”
“Can’t you call them off somehow?”
He heard Janelle speaking to someone in
the background, apologizing for a mistake.
The phone went dead.
A few minutes later The Music Box Dancer began to play again. “Okay, they’re gone. Don’t worry, I didn’t mention your name but
they’ve probably pinpointed your location by now. They might still come around to check. You’re still at the place where you found the
phone, aren’t you?”
“Pretty close.”
“Good, I was afraid you might be at the
tavern with some stupid idea that I’d show up there.”
“I could still get there.”
“What part of ‘stupid’ didn’t you
understand?”
“Sorry, I’m still a little disoriented.”
“Look, do this. Go unlock the park restroom.”
“It’s already unlocked. I didn’t lock it at the end of the day.”
“No, it’s locked. You never unlocked it this morning like you
were supposed to. When Hank and I got
back from our hike I needed it pretty bad.
I was furious when I found it locked.
But I didn’t tell Hank. Just put
the phone in the restroom and I’ll tell Hank I left it there by mistake.”
“I can bring it to you.”
“No.
Believe me, Jason. You don’t want
Hank to know what you did.”
“You’re a fast thinker, Janelle. You’d make a good Park Ranger.”
“That idea’s about to come true. I got a call today. Your manager got approval
to fill the vacant Ranger job, and he chose me.”
“But
how did….”
“All that work I did helping you practice
for the Ranger test. Some of it must
have rubbed off. I passed the test with
a pretty good score.”
“I’m happy for you, Janelle. But just one thing.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t leave your cell phone in an
unlocked truck.”
Janelle’s answer was lost as the cell
phone battery died.
THE END
And Finally...
We are always looking for articles and short stories to publish, as well as suggestions for the newsletter. Please send any ideas, stories, etc. to Colleen. We'd love to see any contributions you'd like to make to The Scribblers.
If you no longer wish to receive this newsletter, please email Colleen with the word 'unsubscribe' in the subject line and we will remove you from our mailing list.
We are always looking for articles and short stories to publish, as well as suggestions for the newsletter. Please send any ideas, stories, etc. to Colleen. We'd love to see any contributions you'd like to make to The Scribblers.
If you no longer wish to receive this newsletter, please email Colleen with the word 'unsubscribe' in the subject line and we will remove you from our mailing list.
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