(Chapter One, Two)
The Wordsmith jumped up from his seat, grabbed Ava's hand and ran over to the booth Fred was sitting at. They both stared for a second at his plate of steak. Then Ava had a thought.
"Why does this matter? I mean, it's not hurting anything, is it?" Ava looked at Fred's plate, half expecting it to sprout eyes and look at her.
"It does matter," the Wordsmith said, "You see, if Fred's jacket doesn't get messy, he won't know the train is speeding up, and therefore, he misses a crucial moment in the story."
"Why don't we just tell him then? Hey, Fred! The train is about to speed up." Ava was perplexed. Fred acted like he didn't hear her. "Fred? Hello? FRED!" Ava's shout should have gotten his attention.
"He can't hear you, Ava. In fact, only I can hear you right now. We're not in the story yet. We're just in the book, watching the story play out. Now, give me a hand in catching this Musing please." The Wordsmith had a pair of salad tongs in his hand now, hovering over the plate. Ava turned away from Fred, and looked intently at the plate of steak.
"Okay," she said, gathering up all her courage. "What do I do?"
"All you have to do is say 'this plate of steak needs to be soup' and say it right at the plate. I'll snag it when it moves and we'll be down one Musing."
Ava stared intently at the plate. She wasn't sure what would happen when she said the words, but her curiosity was too much to resist. She sucked in her breath, and in the loudest voice she could muster, she yelled at the steak.
"THIS PLATE OF STEAK NEEDS TO BE SOUP!" As soon as she yelled it, she regretted it. Taken by surprise at the volume of her yell, the Wordsmith dropped the tongs, right onto the plate! The plate itself suddenly became what looked like a little purple ball of fur with beady black eyes and two hands. It quickly snatched the tongs before the Wordsmith could grab them back, leaped off the table in one tiny hop, and started bouncing across the car toward the door.
"Oh no!" the Wordsmith bolted after it in a state of panic. "We've got to get those tongs back! Come on Ava! AND NO MORE SHOUTING!"
Ava ran after them both, extremely confused about what was so important about those tongs.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
The Wordsmith - Chapter Two
(Chapter One is here)
Ava thought the man looked very silly.
He was wearing a big pirate hat with a picture of a kitten on it, a big red shirt with 7 pockets sewn on the front, blue jeans, and on his feet were one sandal and one cowboy boot.
"You look silly" Ava said.
"Nonsense. I look perfectly acceptable. It's you who look silly, you've got no hat!" He reached into on of his shirt pockets, and pulled out a jump rope. He held it out to her.
"No thanks Mr. Wordsmith. I've already worn one of those today. I didn't like it."
"Very well. How about some tea instead?" Ava sat down across the table from him and took the cup of tea she was offered. She took a sip and found it surprisingly sweet.
"Who are you?" Ava was curious how he was in the story with her, even though she'd never read about him before.
"I'm the Wordsmith, protector of literature and hunter of Musings. You know all about Musings, of course."
"Not really" Ava said, sipping more of her tea. "What are they?"
"Ah! Musings are little creatures that get into stories and change them around. Some of them are harmless, others can do horrible things, like turn good guys into bad guys, or even erase characters from the entire story!"
"Wow, they sound bad. How do you find them?"
"Well, if you know the story well enough, you can pick out things that have changed from the original story. For example, I know there's a couple musings in this story, but I don't know the story very well. It was written before I became a Wordsmith. Which is why I pulled you in here with me. You know this story word for word, don't you?"
"It's my favorite book! We're at the part where Fred Finch is thinking about who left the mysterious package in his room, just before the train starts speeding up. He notices it because the soup he's having starts shaking and spills on his jacket."
"Did you say soup?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Soup? You're absolutely sure?"
Ava thought hard. In her mind she went over the words from the chapter again, and she definitely remembered Fred having soup. But now that she thought about it, when she saw him right after she arrived, he was eating steak!
Ava thought the man looked very silly.
He was wearing a big pirate hat with a picture of a kitten on it, a big red shirt with 7 pockets sewn on the front, blue jeans, and on his feet were one sandal and one cowboy boot.
"You look silly" Ava said.
"Nonsense. I look perfectly acceptable. It's you who look silly, you've got no hat!" He reached into on of his shirt pockets, and pulled out a jump rope. He held it out to her.
"No thanks Mr. Wordsmith. I've already worn one of those today. I didn't like it."
"Very well. How about some tea instead?" Ava sat down across the table from him and took the cup of tea she was offered. She took a sip and found it surprisingly sweet.
"Who are you?" Ava was curious how he was in the story with her, even though she'd never read about him before.
"I'm the Wordsmith, protector of literature and hunter of Musings. You know all about Musings, of course."
"Not really" Ava said, sipping more of her tea. "What are they?"
"Ah! Musings are little creatures that get into stories and change them around. Some of them are harmless, others can do horrible things, like turn good guys into bad guys, or even erase characters from the entire story!"
"Wow, they sound bad. How do you find them?"
"Well, if you know the story well enough, you can pick out things that have changed from the original story. For example, I know there's a couple musings in this story, but I don't know the story very well. It was written before I became a Wordsmith. Which is why I pulled you in here with me. You know this story word for word, don't you?"
"It's my favorite book! We're at the part where Fred Finch is thinking about who left the mysterious package in his room, just before the train starts speeding up. He notices it because the soup he's having starts shaking and spills on his jacket."
"Did you say soup?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Soup? You're absolutely sure?"
Ava thought hard. In her mind she went over the words from the chapter again, and she definitely remembered Fred having soup. But now that she thought about it, when she saw him right after she arrived, he was eating steak!
Monday, May 9, 2011
The Wordsmith - Chapter One
Author's Note: This concept was inspired by imagination and many, many dorky TV shows that I've seen. It's a collection of short stories revolving around a young girl named Ava, and her friend, the Wordsmith, a magical being who can alter the stories in books. Hope you enjoy it!
Ava was feeling very frumpy.
Her first day of school was not going as she had planned. On the bus ride, some snot-nosed 3rd grader spilled his apple juice all over the new dress her mom bought her. Thankfully, the school office had some left over clothes from the year before, and now she was dressed in an old, three-sizes-too-big, pea green sweater. Her troubles didn't end there.
To make things worse, at lunch, the lunch lady slopped the extra sloppy sloppy joes all over her new shoes. Now she was wearing one pink snow boot and one orange tennis shoe. In gym, her curly hair got curled around the jump rope, and now, instead of two perfect pigtails, she had one perfect pig tail and a wad of tangled hair.
Frustrated, she decided to hide after recess. It was a new school, and since no one really knew her, she doubt she'd be missed much. The playground next to the school had quite a few inviting shade trees, and so she hid behind one as the whistle blew to go back to class. She sat down against the tree, and pulled open her book bag. She reached deep down inside, and grabbed what she knew would make her day better, her favorite book.
Ever since she was little, Ava loved books. Her father and mother took turns every night reading to her, and every year for her birthday, they'd take her to the local used bookstore, and she was allowed to "adopt" as many used books as she could carry. She was good at carrying now, and last year she carried 28 books out of the store. They all had their own spot on the shelves of her bedroom.
But this book was extra special. It's cover was very worn, the corners peeling back the many layers of paper, and the pages yellow because the book was so old. It was the first book she was ever given, a book that had belonged to her father when he was a boy. Fred Finch and the Flobberty Flagman. Grand adventure on the railroad, where Fred Finch has to contend with a mystery on board a runaway train.
She had read it so many times that she knew every word, on every page. She opened it, sat it between her knees, and began reading. The next hour seemed to just fly by, and before she knew it, she was completely absorbed in the book.
Ava blinked. Something wasn't right. She had just been reading about Fred having dinner in the dining car, the part of the book just before the train started speeding up. She looked around, and found herself actually in the dining car! The sounds of the train car filled her ears. The "chug-chug-chug" of the engine, the clanking of Fred's silverware on his plate, the sound of other people talking and laughing around her. She even noticed that Fred chewed loud enough to be heard over the train.
"Oh my!" Ava was surprised to find herself in the train car. "I must be going insane!"
"Oh not at all my dear, welcome to the story! Would you like some tea?" The man's voice was older, and sounded funny, like he was British. Ava turned around and saw him sitting in a chair at a table, smiling at her.
"Wait a minute, I know this part of the story. There's no British man sitting at one of the tables. There's only the couple leaning in close together, the three old ladies playing cards, and the waiter taking his break. Where'd you come from?"
"You are quite clever my dear, I am not part of this story, not yet, anyways. I am the Wordsmith. Now, I will ask you again, would you like some tea?"
Ava was feeling very frumpy.
Her first day of school was not going as she had planned. On the bus ride, some snot-nosed 3rd grader spilled his apple juice all over the new dress her mom bought her. Thankfully, the school office had some left over clothes from the year before, and now she was dressed in an old, three-sizes-too-big, pea green sweater. Her troubles didn't end there.
To make things worse, at lunch, the lunch lady slopped the extra sloppy sloppy joes all over her new shoes. Now she was wearing one pink snow boot and one orange tennis shoe. In gym, her curly hair got curled around the jump rope, and now, instead of two perfect pigtails, she had one perfect pig tail and a wad of tangled hair.
Frustrated, she decided to hide after recess. It was a new school, and since no one really knew her, she doubt she'd be missed much. The playground next to the school had quite a few inviting shade trees, and so she hid behind one as the whistle blew to go back to class. She sat down against the tree, and pulled open her book bag. She reached deep down inside, and grabbed what she knew would make her day better, her favorite book.
Ever since she was little, Ava loved books. Her father and mother took turns every night reading to her, and every year for her birthday, they'd take her to the local used bookstore, and she was allowed to "adopt" as many used books as she could carry. She was good at carrying now, and last year she carried 28 books out of the store. They all had their own spot on the shelves of her bedroom.
But this book was extra special. It's cover was very worn, the corners peeling back the many layers of paper, and the pages yellow because the book was so old. It was the first book she was ever given, a book that had belonged to her father when he was a boy. Fred Finch and the Flobberty Flagman. Grand adventure on the railroad, where Fred Finch has to contend with a mystery on board a runaway train.
She had read it so many times that she knew every word, on every page. She opened it, sat it between her knees, and began reading. The next hour seemed to just fly by, and before she knew it, she was completely absorbed in the book.
Ava blinked. Something wasn't right. She had just been reading about Fred having dinner in the dining car, the part of the book just before the train started speeding up. She looked around, and found herself actually in the dining car! The sounds of the train car filled her ears. The "chug-chug-chug" of the engine, the clanking of Fred's silverware on his plate, the sound of other people talking and laughing around her. She even noticed that Fred chewed loud enough to be heard over the train.
"Oh my!" Ava was surprised to find herself in the train car. "I must be going insane!"
"Oh not at all my dear, welcome to the story! Would you like some tea?" The man's voice was older, and sounded funny, like he was British. Ava turned around and saw him sitting in a chair at a table, smiling at her.
"Wait a minute, I know this part of the story. There's no British man sitting at one of the tables. There's only the couple leaning in close together, the three old ladies playing cards, and the waiter taking his break. Where'd you come from?"
"You are quite clever my dear, I am not part of this story, not yet, anyways. I am the Wordsmith. Now, I will ask you again, would you like some tea?"
Friday, May 6, 2011
Someone Died
With the recent news of Osama Bin Laden's death, the world has been on fire with comments and opinions about the subject. It seems the majority is celebrating his passing. I can't help but find this wrong.
Understand, I don't think it's right to celebrate the loss of any human life. Yeah, it's okay to celebrate the end of tyranny, or a selfless act, but the loss of life itself is something I will never celebrate.
My religious view on this issue is that we should be happy that a terrorist was stopped before he cost anymore innocent lives. But his death is still a tragic thing. Remember, Jesus died on that cross for everyone, including Osama Bin Laden, and we lost a chance for God to redeem someone.
I can't help but think back to the end scene in Les Miserables, where Javert understands where justice will lead him, and in the end, he chooses to take justice upon himself to show a little mercy and let Jean Valjean go free. He didn't have to. Everything in his life had been centered on the pursuit of justice, and it led him to the logical outcome of justice: death.
I could write ten sermons on that scene. (Speaking of which, I need to find out when my next sermon date is...)
It makes me wonder, what would have happened if someone had shown Bin Laden a little mercy in his life?
Understand, I don't think it's right to celebrate the loss of any human life. Yeah, it's okay to celebrate the end of tyranny, or a selfless act, but the loss of life itself is something I will never celebrate.
My religious view on this issue is that we should be happy that a terrorist was stopped before he cost anymore innocent lives. But his death is still a tragic thing. Remember, Jesus died on that cross for everyone, including Osama Bin Laden, and we lost a chance for God to redeem someone.
I can't help but think back to the end scene in Les Miserables, where Javert understands where justice will lead him, and in the end, he chooses to take justice upon himself to show a little mercy and let Jean Valjean go free. He didn't have to. Everything in his life had been centered on the pursuit of justice, and it led him to the logical outcome of justice: death.
I could write ten sermons on that scene. (Speaking of which, I need to find out when my next sermon date is...)
It makes me wonder, what would have happened if someone had shown Bin Laden a little mercy in his life?
Monday, May 2, 2011
My First Bloomsday
(It's been a bit since I blogged, sorry about that readers, honestly, I've been busy. But let me tell you about my awesome weekend.)
I used to make fun of people who ran Bloomsday. Back when I was a total jerk-nosed teenager, I really didn't understand what was happening, other than we couldn't go downtown that one Sunday, and it ticked me off. A lot of things did back then.
When I met Deanna, I started to realize what it really was. She opened my world up to a lot of things my own hometown had to offer, things I felt too snooty to really bother with before. Now though, I realized just how much I missed out on. Leave it to a woman from Montana to show me what my own city has to offer.
Anyways, Bloomsday is a big event in Spokane (my town). Like, huge. Gigantic. Large, even. We had over 60,000 people there this year.
The year after we first met, I missed Bloomsday due to being in the hospital with pancreatitis. The next year, pretty much the same thing. Deanna came home really sick that year from walking it, thanks to a low blood pressure and general coldness issue that day.
But this year, we both participated. She walked it, and I cheered.
Now, I know what you want to say, "you didn't walk it? How does that count as participating?"
The answer is simple. I volunteered. In a manner of speaking. I have friends who are part of SpoCon (the Spokane Sci-fi Fantasy Convention) and the Spokantina (I'm a member there, and we're the local Star Wars Fan Club). So I dressed up as my Firefly LARP character, Dorres McLaine, and went to cheer on the runners.
Granted, I got to bed at midnight the night before, and up at 6:00 am to get there in time for a good parking spot, so I wasn't in the best of moods to start with.
But after the people started coming by the booth we had set up, it was a total blast! We were energizing them, and they were energizing us!
Right now, I'm sunburned, sore, tire, and need a day off to recover. I'm also planning a more popular costume for next year, when we both participate again...
Have any of you, dear readers, done Bloomsday?
I used to make fun of people who ran Bloomsday. Back when I was a total jerk-nosed teenager, I really didn't understand what was happening, other than we couldn't go downtown that one Sunday, and it ticked me off. A lot of things did back then.
When I met Deanna, I started to realize what it really was. She opened my world up to a lot of things my own hometown had to offer, things I felt too snooty to really bother with before. Now though, I realized just how much I missed out on. Leave it to a woman from Montana to show me what my own city has to offer.
Anyways, Bloomsday is a big event in Spokane (my town). Like, huge. Gigantic. Large, even. We had over 60,000 people there this year.
The year after we first met, I missed Bloomsday due to being in the hospital with pancreatitis. The next year, pretty much the same thing. Deanna came home really sick that year from walking it, thanks to a low blood pressure and general coldness issue that day.
But this year, we both participated. She walked it, and I cheered.
Now, I know what you want to say, "you didn't walk it? How does that count as participating?"
The answer is simple. I volunteered. In a manner of speaking. I have friends who are part of SpoCon (the Spokane Sci-fi Fantasy Convention) and the Spokantina (I'm a member there, and we're the local Star Wars Fan Club). So I dressed up as my Firefly LARP character, Dorres McLaine, and went to cheer on the runners.
Granted, I got to bed at midnight the night before, and up at 6:00 am to get there in time for a good parking spot, so I wasn't in the best of moods to start with.
But after the people started coming by the booth we had set up, it was a total blast! We were energizing them, and they were energizing us!
Right now, I'm sunburned, sore, tire, and need a day off to recover. I'm also planning a more popular costume for next year, when we both participate again...
Have any of you, dear readers, done Bloomsday?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)