Show Posts
This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.
Pages: [1] 2
1
Week 4 posts / Week 4: Smoke on the Water
« on: August 09, 2021, 06:33:30 PM »
Here's the final version of my short story to wrap up this summer WIM season. Enjoy!
Smoke On the Water
On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long pier at Washington Park Beach, the waters of Lake Michigan lapped at the shore, Foamy waves carried a scattering of seashells to decorate the sand. I?d received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design an overload appliqu? for the annual BalloonFest in Astor Fields next month. They?d given me permission to tour the automated lighthouse. I swallowed hard and held my breath.
Lighthouses had always fascinated me ever since I was a young girl. From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier, I?d gotten the gist of how tall and wide the beacon would be for the balloon. I pretended to faint. My pulse soared like a surfer riding a wave when the local newspaper mentioned my name in that article. At the entrance, I typed rough estimates for the pre-cut design. Instead of the usual red-and-white stripes, I etched a light composition on the canvas like an artist painting their seascape. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest as I?d worked on the design. When I finished, I unlocked the doors to the leading light with the master key.
Inside the beacon, I climbed the spiral staircase to the elevated catwalk. Out-of-breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows facing Lake Michigan to marvel at the view. ?Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world?? I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing. Something buoyed along the tide. Smoke on the water. I gasped at deflated hot air balloon that floated with broken suspension cords. ?Someone call 9-1-1 ASAP!? I headed toward the pier as I waited for help. Why was that balloon here unless it was an aeronaut from the Balloonfest.
I exited and sprinted toward the quiet beach. At the parking lot, I removed my sneakers and my jean shorts, and stashed them with my tablet and duffel bag in my car. As a former senior lifeguard, I was a strong swimmer trained to rescue people in the water. I bit my lower lip and guessed the basket was at least fifteen feet away.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Like a buoy, somebody clutched onto the basket. I rushed toward the water?s edge before anyone could stop me.
"Hey miss. You should leave it to the professionals. Didn?t you call for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. "Yes, I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a former lifeguard.."
He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet?.Officer."
"It's Lieutenant O'Dowd. What?s your name? And you're on." He snickered.
O?Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors last fall had been named O'Dowd? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. It?s Jillian Ross. Meet you at the basket." I ran toward the shallow end and dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, he groaned behind me and accelerated the fire/rescue boat. I?d gotten the lead by a mere margin as I propelled myself forward with the freestyle stroke. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirling smoke wafted into the air from the sinking basket as someone called for "help."
Logan sped on the waves. I splashed Logan when I approached the basket. This man inside sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
I did my best to shrug off the shivers.Fire engulfed the hot air balloon. A Coast Guard clipper doused the flame and tended to the injured man?s needs. A splash didn?t do much to smother this out-of-control blaze.
He smirked and folded his arms. "Not so fast. You've proven your point, and we'll take over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold.?
"I wanted to save a life... Lieutenant."
?Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me when I climbed inside the boat to dry off. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous.
My lips quivered. I frowned at the faded white, red, and blue colors from the hot air balloon. The fire smeared the design with a missing logo or emblem. I wrapped myself inside a warm towel as we sped past the clipper that gathered the balloon for evidence.
"Satisfied," Logan said. "But I don?t know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold water?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to save a life. I guess I did in a way." I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the lift. See you around..Logan." I jumped out and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later, I drove away and headed toward my home in Valparaiso. A secret smirk crossed my face when I know we would meet again when our relationship would take flight like navigating a hot air balloon for the Balloonfest next month.
Smoke On the Water
On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long pier at Washington Park Beach, the waters of Lake Michigan lapped at the shore, Foamy waves carried a scattering of seashells to decorate the sand. I?d received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design an overload appliqu? for the annual BalloonFest in Astor Fields next month. They?d given me permission to tour the automated lighthouse. I swallowed hard and held my breath.
Lighthouses had always fascinated me ever since I was a young girl. From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier, I?d gotten the gist of how tall and wide the beacon would be for the balloon. I pretended to faint. My pulse soared like a surfer riding a wave when the local newspaper mentioned my name in that article. At the entrance, I typed rough estimates for the pre-cut design. Instead of the usual red-and-white stripes, I etched a light composition on the canvas like an artist painting their seascape. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest as I?d worked on the design. When I finished, I unlocked the doors to the leading light with the master key.
Inside the beacon, I climbed the spiral staircase to the elevated catwalk. Out-of-breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows facing Lake Michigan to marvel at the view. ?Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world?? I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing. Something buoyed along the tide. Smoke on the water. I gasped at deflated hot air balloon that floated with broken suspension cords. ?Someone call 9-1-1 ASAP!? I headed toward the pier as I waited for help. Why was that balloon here unless it was an aeronaut from the Balloonfest.
I exited and sprinted toward the quiet beach. At the parking lot, I removed my sneakers and my jean shorts, and stashed them with my tablet and duffel bag in my car. As a former senior lifeguard, I was a strong swimmer trained to rescue people in the water. I bit my lower lip and guessed the basket was at least fifteen feet away.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Like a buoy, somebody clutched onto the basket. I rushed toward the water?s edge before anyone could stop me.
"Hey miss. You should leave it to the professionals. Didn?t you call for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. "Yes, I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a former lifeguard.."
He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet?.Officer."
"It's Lieutenant O'Dowd. What?s your name? And you're on." He snickered.
O?Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors last fall had been named O'Dowd? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. It?s Jillian Ross. Meet you at the basket." I ran toward the shallow end and dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, he groaned behind me and accelerated the fire/rescue boat. I?d gotten the lead by a mere margin as I propelled myself forward with the freestyle stroke. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirling smoke wafted into the air from the sinking basket as someone called for "help."
Logan sped on the waves. I splashed Logan when I approached the basket. This man inside sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
I did my best to shrug off the shivers.Fire engulfed the hot air balloon. A Coast Guard clipper doused the flame and tended to the injured man?s needs. A splash didn?t do much to smother this out-of-control blaze.
He smirked and folded his arms. "Not so fast. You've proven your point, and we'll take over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold.?
"I wanted to save a life... Lieutenant."
?Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me when I climbed inside the boat to dry off. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous.
My lips quivered. I frowned at the faded white, red, and blue colors from the hot air balloon. The fire smeared the design with a missing logo or emblem. I wrapped myself inside a warm towel as we sped past the clipper that gathered the balloon for evidence.
"Satisfied," Logan said. "But I don?t know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold water?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to save a life. I guess I did in a way." I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the lift. See you around..Logan." I jumped out and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later, I drove away and headed toward my home in Valparaiso. A secret smirk crossed my face when I know we would meet again when our relationship would take flight like navigating a hot air balloon for the Balloonfest next month.
2
Week 3 posts / CP Version: Smoke on the Water
« on: August 01, 2021, 07:54:53 PM »
Special thanks goes to Megan, Dani, and Johanna for helping me out by making this short story better. My word count is down. I've slightly changed my ending to give it a romantic hint of what's to come. Enjoy!
Smoke On the Water
On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long pier at Washington Park Beach, the waters of Lake Michigan lapped at the shore, Foamy waves carried a scattering of seashells to decorate the sand. I?d received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design an overload appliqu? for the annual BalloonFest in Astor Fields next month. They?d given me permission to tour the automated lighthouse. Lucky for me, I wasn't afraid of heights.
Lighthouses had always fascinated me for ever since I was a young girl From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier, I?d gotten the gist of how tall and wide the lighthouse would be to apply on the nylon fabric for the balloon. I pretended to faint. My pulse soared like a surfer riding a wave when the local newspaper mentioned my name in that article. At the entrance, I typed rough estimates for the pre-cut design. Instead of the usual red-and-white stripes, I etched a light composition on the canvas like an artist painting their seascape. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest as I?d worked on the design. When I finished, I unlocked the doors to the lighthouse with the master key.
Inside the lighthouse, I climbed the spiral staircase to the elevated catwalk. Out-of-breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows facing Lake Michigan to marvel at the view. ?Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world?? I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing. Something buoyed along the tide. Smoke on the water. I gasped at deflated hot air balloon that floated with broken suspension cords. I dialed 9-1-1.
? 911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked.
"A hot air balloon has fallen into Lake Michigan. It's on fire."
"Where are you at?"
"Michigan City East Lighthouse and Pier."
?I?m sending EMS, police, and fire over your way within ten minutes. Your name??
?Thank you. Jillian Ross.? I headed toward the pier as I waited for help. Time was of the essence. Why was that balloon here unless it was an aeronaut from the Balloonfest.
I exited and sprinted toward the quiet beach. At the parking lot, I stashed my tablet inside my car and donned my wetsuit to stay warm from the chilly water. As a former senior lifeguard, I had phenomenal swimming and diving skills. It couldn't hurt to have a head start. I hurried to the vacant lifeguard stand and borrowed a pair of binoculars. I bit my lower lip and guessed the basket was at least fifteen feet away.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Like a buoy, somebody clutched onto the basket. I rushed toward the water?s edge before anyone could stop me.
"Hey miss. You should leave it to the professionals. Didn?t you call for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. I took umbrage at what he said: lifeguards weren't professionals. "Yes, I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a certified lifeguard and an all-star champion in collegiate swimming and diving...." I didn't like to boost about my stellar athleticism which almost landed me a spot on the US Olympic team a dozen years ago.
He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet?.Officer."
"It's Lieutenant O'Dowd, Miss Ross. And you're on." He snickered.
O?Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors last fall had been named O'Dowd? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. Meet you at the basket." I ran toward the shallow end and dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, he groaned behind me and accelerated the fire/rescue boat. I?d gotten the lead by a mere margin as I propelled myself forward with the freestyle stroke. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirling smoke wafted into the air from the sinking basket as someone called for "help."
Logan sped on the waves. I splashed Logan when I approached the basket. This man inside sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
I did my best to shrug off the shivers.Fire engulfed the hot air balloon. A Coast Guard clipper doused the flame and tended to the injured man?s needs. A splash didn?t do much to smother this out-of-control blaze.
He smirked and folded his arms. "Not so fast. You've proven your point, and we'll take over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold.?
"I wanted to save a life... Lieutenant."
?Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me when I climbed inside the boat to dry off. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous.
My lips quivered. I frowned at the faded white, red, and blue colors from the hot air balloon. The fire smeared the design with a missing logo or emblem. I wrapped myself inside a warm towel as we sped past the clipper that gathered the balloon for evidence.
"Satisfied," Logan said. "But I don?t know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold water?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to save a life. I guess I did in a way." I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the lift. See you around..Logan." I jumped out and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later, I drove away and headed toward my home in Valparaiso. A secret smirk crossed my face when I know we would meet again when our relationship would take flight like navigating a hot air balloon for the Balloonfest next month.
Smoke On the Water
On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long pier at Washington Park Beach, the waters of Lake Michigan lapped at the shore, Foamy waves carried a scattering of seashells to decorate the sand. I?d received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design an overload appliqu? for the annual BalloonFest in Astor Fields next month. They?d given me permission to tour the automated lighthouse. Lucky for me, I wasn't afraid of heights.
Lighthouses had always fascinated me for ever since I was a young girl From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier, I?d gotten the gist of how tall and wide the lighthouse would be to apply on the nylon fabric for the balloon. I pretended to faint. My pulse soared like a surfer riding a wave when the local newspaper mentioned my name in that article. At the entrance, I typed rough estimates for the pre-cut design. Instead of the usual red-and-white stripes, I etched a light composition on the canvas like an artist painting their seascape. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest as I?d worked on the design. When I finished, I unlocked the doors to the lighthouse with the master key.
Inside the lighthouse, I climbed the spiral staircase to the elevated catwalk. Out-of-breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows facing Lake Michigan to marvel at the view. ?Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world?? I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing. Something buoyed along the tide. Smoke on the water. I gasped at deflated hot air balloon that floated with broken suspension cords. I dialed 9-1-1.
? 911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked.
"A hot air balloon has fallen into Lake Michigan. It's on fire."
"Where are you at?"
"Michigan City East Lighthouse and Pier."
?I?m sending EMS, police, and fire over your way within ten minutes. Your name??
?Thank you. Jillian Ross.? I headed toward the pier as I waited for help. Time was of the essence. Why was that balloon here unless it was an aeronaut from the Balloonfest.
I exited and sprinted toward the quiet beach. At the parking lot, I stashed my tablet inside my car and donned my wetsuit to stay warm from the chilly water. As a former senior lifeguard, I had phenomenal swimming and diving skills. It couldn't hurt to have a head start. I hurried to the vacant lifeguard stand and borrowed a pair of binoculars. I bit my lower lip and guessed the basket was at least fifteen feet away.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Like a buoy, somebody clutched onto the basket. I rushed toward the water?s edge before anyone could stop me.
"Hey miss. You should leave it to the professionals. Didn?t you call for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. I took umbrage at what he said: lifeguards weren't professionals. "Yes, I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a certified lifeguard and an all-star champion in collegiate swimming and diving...." I didn't like to boost about my stellar athleticism which almost landed me a spot on the US Olympic team a dozen years ago.
He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet?.Officer."
"It's Lieutenant O'Dowd, Miss Ross. And you're on." He snickered.
O?Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors last fall had been named O'Dowd? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. Meet you at the basket." I ran toward the shallow end and dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, he groaned behind me and accelerated the fire/rescue boat. I?d gotten the lead by a mere margin as I propelled myself forward with the freestyle stroke. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirling smoke wafted into the air from the sinking basket as someone called for "help."
Logan sped on the waves. I splashed Logan when I approached the basket. This man inside sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
I did my best to shrug off the shivers.Fire engulfed the hot air balloon. A Coast Guard clipper doused the flame and tended to the injured man?s needs. A splash didn?t do much to smother this out-of-control blaze.
He smirked and folded his arms. "Not so fast. You've proven your point, and we'll take over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold.?
"I wanted to save a life... Lieutenant."
?Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me when I climbed inside the boat to dry off. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous.
My lips quivered. I frowned at the faded white, red, and blue colors from the hot air balloon. The fire smeared the design with a missing logo or emblem. I wrapped myself inside a warm towel as we sped past the clipper that gathered the balloon for evidence.
"Satisfied," Logan said. "But I don?t know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold water?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to save a life. I guess I did in a way." I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the lift. See you around..Logan." I jumped out and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later, I drove away and headed toward my home in Valparaiso. A secret smirk crossed my face when I know we would meet again when our relationship would take flight like navigating a hot air balloon for the Balloonfest next month.
3
Week 2 posts / Self-Edited version: Smoke on the Water
« on: July 27, 2021, 04:08:18 PM »
HI all. Here's my belated self-edited version of Smoke on the Water. I do some commenting this week to catch up on both versions. Enjoy!
Smoke On the Water
On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long pier at Washington Park Beach. I received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design a print for the annual BalloonFest in Astor Fields. They've given me permission to tour the automated lighthouse. Lucky for me, I wasn't afraid of heights.
I glanced at Lake Michigan lapping at the shore. Lighthouses had always fascinated me ever since I was a young girl. In my right hand, I carried my tablet. From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier, I've gotten the gist of how tall and wide it would be for the nylon fabric. I pretended to faint. My name mentioned in the local newspaper for this newest milestone in my career.
At the entrance, I typed rough estimates for the pre-cut rough design. Instead the usual red-and-white stripes, I etched a light composite on the canvas like an artist painting their landscape or seascape. My feet dangled near the edge and not too close to the railing. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest. Unadulterated adrenaline rushed through me as I've worked on the design. When I finished, I unlocked the doors with the master keys.
Inside, I climbed the spiral staircase to the elevated catwalk. Out-of-breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows facing Lake Michigan to marvel at the view. ?Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world... ? I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing and looked for a sign. No passing sailboats or fishing boats to make waves. Something buoyed along the tide. Smoke on the water. I dialed 9-1-1. A wicker basket acted like a small boat, burning alive with a fiery flame. I gasped at the deflated hot air balloon that floated with broken suspension cords.
"911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked.
"A hot air balloon had fallen in Lake Michigan. It's on fire."
"Where are you at?"
"Michigan City East Lighthouse and Pier."
"I'm sending EMS, police, and fire over your way within ten minutes. Your name??
?Thank you. Jillian Ross.? I headed toward the pier as I waited for help. Time was of the essence. Why was that balloon here?... unless it was for an emergency landing.
I exited and sprinted toward the quiet beach. Although it wasn't swimming season, the water might not be warm enough for a rescue. I stashed my tablet inside my car and donned my wetsuit. As a senior lifeguard during my youth, I had phenomenal swimming and diving skills. It couldn't hurt to have a headstart. I hurried to the vacant lifeguard stand and borrowed a pair of binoculars. I bit my lower lip and guessed the basket was at least fifteen miles away.
In the distance, sirens sounded off behind me with flashing red and blue lights. Like a buoy, somebody clutched onto the basket. I rushed into the water before anyone could stop me.
"Hey miss,? a tall male said. ?You should leave it to the professionals. Didn?t you call for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD fireman's uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. I took umbrage on what he said: lifeguards weren't professionals. "Yes I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a certified lifeguard and an all-star champion in collegiate swimming and diving...." I didn't like to boost about my stellar athleticism which almost landed me a spot on the US Olympic team a dozen years ago.
He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet? Put your money where your mouth is... Officer."
"It's Lieutenant O'Dowd, Miss Ross. And you're on." He snickered.
O'Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors were named O'Dowd last fall? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. Meet you at the basket." I dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, he groaned behind me and accelerated the Rescue Squad's motorboat. I've gotten the lead by a mere margin as I propelled myself forward with the freestyle stroke. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirling smoke wafted into the air as someone called for "help."
Logan sped on the waves. I splashed him when I approached the basket. This man sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
I did my best to shrug off the shivers. The fire engulfed the hot air balloon. A Coast Guard clipper doused the flame and tended to his needs. A splash didn?t do much to smother this out-of-control blaze.
He smirked and folded his arms. "Not so fast. You've proved your point, and we'll take over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold or get hypothermia or pneumonia..."
I haven't gotten that far on what the prize would be, other than plain boasting and bragging rights. "I wanted to tend to that victim and take him safely to the shore... Lieutenant."
"It's already taken care of. Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous.
My lips quivered. I frowned at the faded white, red, and blue colors. The fire smeared the design with a missing logo or emblem. I extended my hand to O?Dowd when he helped me climb inside the boat. I wrapped myself in a warm towel as we sped past the other firemen that gathered the hot air balloon for evidence. But I'd recognized the letters for the BalloonFest.
"Satisfied," Logan said. "But I didn't know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold water?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to save a life. I guess I did in a way." During the rest of the ride, I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the lift. See you around..Logan." I jumped out and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later, I drove away and headed toward Emberly Heights, not knowing if I ever see him again.
Smoke On the Water
On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long pier at Washington Park Beach. I received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design a print for the annual BalloonFest in Astor Fields. They've given me permission to tour the automated lighthouse. Lucky for me, I wasn't afraid of heights.
I glanced at Lake Michigan lapping at the shore. Lighthouses had always fascinated me ever since I was a young girl. In my right hand, I carried my tablet. From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier, I've gotten the gist of how tall and wide it would be for the nylon fabric. I pretended to faint. My name mentioned in the local newspaper for this newest milestone in my career.
At the entrance, I typed rough estimates for the pre-cut rough design. Instead the usual red-and-white stripes, I etched a light composite on the canvas like an artist painting their landscape or seascape. My feet dangled near the edge and not too close to the railing. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest. Unadulterated adrenaline rushed through me as I've worked on the design. When I finished, I unlocked the doors with the master keys.
Inside, I climbed the spiral staircase to the elevated catwalk. Out-of-breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows facing Lake Michigan to marvel at the view. ?Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world... ? I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing and looked for a sign. No passing sailboats or fishing boats to make waves. Something buoyed along the tide. Smoke on the water. I dialed 9-1-1. A wicker basket acted like a small boat, burning alive with a fiery flame. I gasped at the deflated hot air balloon that floated with broken suspension cords.
"911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked.
"A hot air balloon had fallen in Lake Michigan. It's on fire."
"Where are you at?"
"Michigan City East Lighthouse and Pier."
"I'm sending EMS, police, and fire over your way within ten minutes. Your name??
?Thank you. Jillian Ross.? I headed toward the pier as I waited for help. Time was of the essence. Why was that balloon here?... unless it was for an emergency landing.
I exited and sprinted toward the quiet beach. Although it wasn't swimming season, the water might not be warm enough for a rescue. I stashed my tablet inside my car and donned my wetsuit. As a senior lifeguard during my youth, I had phenomenal swimming and diving skills. It couldn't hurt to have a headstart. I hurried to the vacant lifeguard stand and borrowed a pair of binoculars. I bit my lower lip and guessed the basket was at least fifteen miles away.
In the distance, sirens sounded off behind me with flashing red and blue lights. Like a buoy, somebody clutched onto the basket. I rushed into the water before anyone could stop me.
"Hey miss,? a tall male said. ?You should leave it to the professionals. Didn?t you call for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD fireman's uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. I took umbrage on what he said: lifeguards weren't professionals. "Yes I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a certified lifeguard and an all-star champion in collegiate swimming and diving...." I didn't like to boost about my stellar athleticism which almost landed me a spot on the US Olympic team a dozen years ago.
He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet? Put your money where your mouth is... Officer."
"It's Lieutenant O'Dowd, Miss Ross. And you're on." He snickered.
O'Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors were named O'Dowd last fall? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. Meet you at the basket." I dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, he groaned behind me and accelerated the Rescue Squad's motorboat. I've gotten the lead by a mere margin as I propelled myself forward with the freestyle stroke. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirling smoke wafted into the air as someone called for "help."
Logan sped on the waves. I splashed him when I approached the basket. This man sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
I did my best to shrug off the shivers. The fire engulfed the hot air balloon. A Coast Guard clipper doused the flame and tended to his needs. A splash didn?t do much to smother this out-of-control blaze.
He smirked and folded his arms. "Not so fast. You've proved your point, and we'll take over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold or get hypothermia or pneumonia..."
I haven't gotten that far on what the prize would be, other than plain boasting and bragging rights. "I wanted to tend to that victim and take him safely to the shore... Lieutenant."
"It's already taken care of. Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous.
My lips quivered. I frowned at the faded white, red, and blue colors. The fire smeared the design with a missing logo or emblem. I extended my hand to O?Dowd when he helped me climb inside the boat. I wrapped myself in a warm towel as we sped past the other firemen that gathered the hot air balloon for evidence. But I'd recognized the letters for the BalloonFest.
"Satisfied," Logan said. "But I didn't know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold water?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to save a life. I guess I did in a way." During the rest of the ride, I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the lift. See you around..Logan." I jumped out and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later, I drove away and headed toward Emberly Heights, not knowing if I ever see him again.
4
Week 1 posts / Re: First Draft: Dust in the Wind
« on: July 22, 2021, 01:21:00 PM »
Love the opening with the sound affects with the breathe, thud, heave. It really puts us into the moment. Love the imagery in this passage about the drought in the air. Nice start.
5
Week 1 posts / Re: First Draft - La Capitaine Retourne
« on: July 22, 2021, 01:16:41 PM »
Dani, this was a cute episode of Captain Margot for this short story. They're off to set sailing for a brand new adventure. Good fresh start.
6
Week 1 posts / First Draft: Smoke on the Water
« on: July 20, 2021, 10:53:52 PM »
Here's my very rough draft of Smoke on the Water, my contemporary romance future meet-cute, at 2000 words.
Smoke on the Water
On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long, winding pier at Washington Park Beach in Michigan City. While I visited my cousin here, I received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design a print for the annual hot air balloon festival in Astor Fields next month. They've given me an endowment to create an image of the Michigan City Lighthouse to go on the balloon. This was the first time the N.H.S., and the town of Astor Fields, had considered to enter their hot air balloon in the race. They've also had granted me permission to tour the lightkeeper's cottage and to climb to the top of the watch tower. Lucky for me, I wasn't afraid of heights.
As I strode along the pier, I glanced at the calm, blue-green water from Lake Michigan. With light foamy waves that lapped at the shore, the bright sun shone above me as I donned my tinted shades and viewed this magnificent scenery. Lighthouses had always fascinated me ever since I was a young girl. In my right hand, I carried my CAD-computer, a blank sketch pad, and assorted colored pens and pencils. From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier I've done the day before, I've gotten the gist of how tall and wide it would be for my print to go on the nylon fabric. So excited to see my name, Jillian Ross, graphic designer and fine artist, be mentioned in the papers and credit this achievement on my resum? and portfolio for future commissioned work.
I stopped at the front of the light house and plopped myself down in front of this national historical landmark. I opened my tablet and typed rough estimates for my pre-cut rough design. Instead of the usual red-and-white striped colors of the towers like barber shop poles, I grabbed my pencils, stencils, and etched a light composite on the canvas like an artist would before they've drawn, sketched, and painted their landscape or seascape with a wide range of colors. My feet dangled near the pavement's edge and not too close to the railing. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest. A bolt of unadulterated adrenaline rushed through me. In no time, from the solar valve on top of the cupola, and then toward the massive concrete foundation, I've gotten down to work for the printed design for my rough sketch on my pad. Before I transferred it to my tablet, I've taken a break and headed to the entrance when I unlocked the doors with the master keys to the automated lighthouse and cottage.
As I stepped inside, I climbed the seventy-two step spiral staircase all the way to the elevated catwalk above the watch tower. I liked to call this research before I completed my drawing for the hot air balloon festival. Out of breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows that faced Lake Michigan. For a closer look, I headed to the catwalk and marveled at the amazing view. Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world...sort-of. I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny blue sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing and looked for a sign. No passing sailboats or fishing boats to make waves this morning. Something buoyed along the tide as more wisps of smoke floated in the air, when it caught on fire. Smoke on the water, maybe fifteen miles away from me. I whipped out my cell and dialed 9-1-1. A wicker basket acted like a small boat, burning alive with a fiery flame. I gasped and widened my eyes at the deflated hot air balloon that floated along with broken suspension cords.
"911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked me.
"A hot air balloon had popped and fallen in Lake Michigan. It's on fire."
"Where are you at?"
"I'm at Michigan City East Lighthouse and Pier at Washington Park Beach. I see smoke on the water."
"I'm sending EMS, police, and fire over your way. They'll be there in ten minutes. If possible, stay on the line to give us more information. What's your name?"
"Jillian Ross. I'll try. I need to get a closer look from here and put you on hold as I head to the beach." I paused my call and headed back inside to go downstairs toward the pier. I hurried as fast I could as I waited for help. I couldn't see much from where I stood on the catwalk. Time was of the essence. What in the world why that balloon doing here?... unless it was for an emergency landing when it was possibly on fire.
I exited out of the lighthouse and sprinted along the pier and then veered across to Washington Park Beach. Although it wasn't exactly swimming season that morning, the lake water might not be warm enough for swimming. That aeronaut must've gotten chilled with hypothermia by now. Other than knowing that help was seven minutes away, I knew I had to do something to save a life. I went to the parking lot to stash my lighthouse drawing inside and snatched my long wetsuit before I dove onto the chilling lake water. As a senior lifeguard during my youth, I had phenomenal swimming and diving skills. It couldn't hurt to have a headstart. On that quiet beach, I rushed to the vacant lifeguard stand and borrowed a pair of binoculars. I bit my lower lip and guessed that the basket was at least fifteen miles away, toward the middle of the lake.
In the distance, sirens sounded off behind me , red and blue flashing strobe lights appeared in my purview. Like a buoy, somebody clutched on the basket with their dear life, while the inside continued to burn and spread toward the balloon's envelope to a dark brown color. Was it entangled up and caught on the telephone wires or snagged by the trees? I couldn't tell that much from where I stood.
Without much deliberation, I took a chance to rush into the water before anyone could stop me. I needed to reach that person before it might be way too late.
"Hey miss", a tall male said to me. "You should leave it to the professionals. Weren't you who called for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD fireman's uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. I took umbrage that what he said: lifeguards weren't professionals and this wasn't a life-saving test. I quirked the corners of my mouth and raised my brows. "Yes I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a certified lifeguard and an all-star champion in collegiate swimming and diving...." I didn't like to boost about my stellar athleticism which almost landed me a spot on the US Olympic team a dozen years ago.
He scoffed and stepped closer to the shoreline. "Yeah, right, miss. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I might not be a local from Michigan City, but I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet? Put your money where your mouth is... Officer."
Everyone gathered around us and viewed the fire-burning scene. They cheered and clapped behind us like this was some sort of exhibition. "It's Lieutenant O'Dowd, Miss Ross. And you're on." He snickered at me.
O'Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors were named O'Dowd last fall. What was his name? Any relation? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. Meet you at the basket." Since when he was a fireman and worked two jobs in the same camping season, unless he took time off to drive a forty-five minute commute from Emberly Heights. I rushed toward the water in my long-sleeved wetsuit and dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, I could hear him groan straight behind me as he accelerated the MCFD's Rescue Squad's motorboat from shore. I've gotten the lead from a mere margin as I propelled myself forward to the burning hot air balloon with the front stroke to reach the victim faster. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirls of smoke wafted into the air as someone called for "help." I could've sworn he was a male.
As Logan took off in a boat on the waves with his colleagues, I kicked up some water and made waves to splash him when I approached the basket. This man sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
I did my best to shrug off the shivers that emanated from the cold. The fire continued to engulf the hot air balloon in its entirety, grey smoke wafted in the air with soot and ash. A Coast Guard clipper arrived at the scene with fire hoses and extinguishers to douse the flames inside the basket and the sand bags. Not even a splash from the cold fresh water did much to smother this out-of-control fire. Arson? Explosives? Sabotaged burners that ran out of gas from a leak? Those thoughts swirled in my mind.
As I swam closer to the victim, the fireman in the boat stopped me with a smirk and folded his arms at his waist. "Not so fast. You've proved your point in the bet, and we'll take it over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold or get hypothermia or pneumonia..."
I haven't gotten that far on what the prize would be, other than plain boasting and bragging rights. "I wanted to ten to that victim and see if he's all right and take him safely to the shore... Lieutenant."
He scoffed and glanced at the smoldered hot air balloon. Two fire fighters on his boat had managed to douse the flame. Two Coast Guard officers helped tend to the victim's needs and take him to the nearest hospital back at the shore. "It's already taken care of, Miss Ross. Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous.
My lips quivered from the cold. With a closer look, I peaked at the half-ruined hot air balloon's envelope and frowned at the faded colors of white, red, and blue, that had now turned into a smeared design with a missing logo or emblem. On the clipper, they've taken him away at a fast pace. As I reached my hand toward O'Dowd, I extended it to him to help me climb inside the boat. I wrapped myself in a warm blanket as we sped past the other fire boat that gathered the hot air balloon to tow it away for evidence. But I knew I'd recognized it and the letters for the Astor Fields BalloonFest to do promotions for the big event two weeks away. Was he a participant? Did I know him? Dd someone want to take him out of the competition so early on, even if it as a crime?
"Satisfied, Miss Ross," Logan said. "But I didn't know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold waters?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to lend a hand and save a life. I guessed I did in a way." During the rest of the ride, I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the ride. See you around..Logan." I jumped out of the boat and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward the sand and then to my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later, after I dried off and changed clothes, I drove away and headed toward Emberly Heights, not knowing if I ever see him again. Or the mystery on why that hot air balloon crash landed in Lake Michigan, or if it it was connected to one another.
Smoke on the Water
On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long, winding pier at Washington Park Beach in Michigan City. While I visited my cousin here, I received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design a print for the annual hot air balloon festival in Astor Fields next month. They've given me an endowment to create an image of the Michigan City Lighthouse to go on the balloon. This was the first time the N.H.S., and the town of Astor Fields, had considered to enter their hot air balloon in the race. They've also had granted me permission to tour the lightkeeper's cottage and to climb to the top of the watch tower. Lucky for me, I wasn't afraid of heights.
As I strode along the pier, I glanced at the calm, blue-green water from Lake Michigan. With light foamy waves that lapped at the shore, the bright sun shone above me as I donned my tinted shades and viewed this magnificent scenery. Lighthouses had always fascinated me ever since I was a young girl. In my right hand, I carried my CAD-computer, a blank sketch pad, and assorted colored pens and pencils. From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier I've done the day before, I've gotten the gist of how tall and wide it would be for my print to go on the nylon fabric. So excited to see my name, Jillian Ross, graphic designer and fine artist, be mentioned in the papers and credit this achievement on my resum? and portfolio for future commissioned work.
I stopped at the front of the light house and plopped myself down in front of this national historical landmark. I opened my tablet and typed rough estimates for my pre-cut rough design. Instead of the usual red-and-white striped colors of the towers like barber shop poles, I grabbed my pencils, stencils, and etched a light composite on the canvas like an artist would before they've drawn, sketched, and painted their landscape or seascape with a wide range of colors. My feet dangled near the pavement's edge and not too close to the railing. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest. A bolt of unadulterated adrenaline rushed through me. In no time, from the solar valve on top of the cupola, and then toward the massive concrete foundation, I've gotten down to work for the printed design for my rough sketch on my pad. Before I transferred it to my tablet, I've taken a break and headed to the entrance when I unlocked the doors with the master keys to the automated lighthouse and cottage.
As I stepped inside, I climbed the seventy-two step spiral staircase all the way to the elevated catwalk above the watch tower. I liked to call this research before I completed my drawing for the hot air balloon festival. Out of breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows that faced Lake Michigan. For a closer look, I headed to the catwalk and marveled at the amazing view. Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world...sort-of. I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny blue sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing and looked for a sign. No passing sailboats or fishing boats to make waves this morning. Something buoyed along the tide as more wisps of smoke floated in the air, when it caught on fire. Smoke on the water, maybe fifteen miles away from me. I whipped out my cell and dialed 9-1-1. A wicker basket acted like a small boat, burning alive with a fiery flame. I gasped and widened my eyes at the deflated hot air balloon that floated along with broken suspension cords.
"911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked me.
"A hot air balloon had popped and fallen in Lake Michigan. It's on fire."
"Where are you at?"
"I'm at Michigan City East Lighthouse and Pier at Washington Park Beach. I see smoke on the water."
"I'm sending EMS, police, and fire over your way. They'll be there in ten minutes. If possible, stay on the line to give us more information. What's your name?"
"Jillian Ross. I'll try. I need to get a closer look from here and put you on hold as I head to the beach." I paused my call and headed back inside to go downstairs toward the pier. I hurried as fast I could as I waited for help. I couldn't see much from where I stood on the catwalk. Time was of the essence. What in the world why that balloon doing here?... unless it was for an emergency landing when it was possibly on fire.
I exited out of the lighthouse and sprinted along the pier and then veered across to Washington Park Beach. Although it wasn't exactly swimming season that morning, the lake water might not be warm enough for swimming. That aeronaut must've gotten chilled with hypothermia by now. Other than knowing that help was seven minutes away, I knew I had to do something to save a life. I went to the parking lot to stash my lighthouse drawing inside and snatched my long wetsuit before I dove onto the chilling lake water. As a senior lifeguard during my youth, I had phenomenal swimming and diving skills. It couldn't hurt to have a headstart. On that quiet beach, I rushed to the vacant lifeguard stand and borrowed a pair of binoculars. I bit my lower lip and guessed that the basket was at least fifteen miles away, toward the middle of the lake.
In the distance, sirens sounded off behind me , red and blue flashing strobe lights appeared in my purview. Like a buoy, somebody clutched on the basket with their dear life, while the inside continued to burn and spread toward the balloon's envelope to a dark brown color. Was it entangled up and caught on the telephone wires or snagged by the trees? I couldn't tell that much from where I stood.
Without much deliberation, I took a chance to rush into the water before anyone could stop me. I needed to reach that person before it might be way too late.
"Hey miss", a tall male said to me. "You should leave it to the professionals. Weren't you who called for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD fireman's uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. I took umbrage that what he said: lifeguards weren't professionals and this wasn't a life-saving test. I quirked the corners of my mouth and raised my brows. "Yes I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a certified lifeguard and an all-star champion in collegiate swimming and diving...." I didn't like to boost about my stellar athleticism which almost landed me a spot on the US Olympic team a dozen years ago.
He scoffed and stepped closer to the shoreline. "Yeah, right, miss. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I might not be a local from Michigan City, but I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet? Put your money where your mouth is... Officer."
Everyone gathered around us and viewed the fire-burning scene. They cheered and clapped behind us like this was some sort of exhibition. "It's Lieutenant O'Dowd, Miss Ross. And you're on." He snickered at me.
O'Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors were named O'Dowd last fall. What was his name? Any relation? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. Meet you at the basket." Since when he was a fireman and worked two jobs in the same camping season, unless he took time off to drive a forty-five minute commute from Emberly Heights. I rushed toward the water in my long-sleeved wetsuit and dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, I could hear him groan straight behind me as he accelerated the MCFD's Rescue Squad's motorboat from shore. I've gotten the lead from a mere margin as I propelled myself forward to the burning hot air balloon with the front stroke to reach the victim faster. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirls of smoke wafted into the air as someone called for "help." I could've sworn he was a male.
As Logan took off in a boat on the waves with his colleagues, I kicked up some water and made waves to splash him when I approached the basket. This man sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
I did my best to shrug off the shivers that emanated from the cold. The fire continued to engulf the hot air balloon in its entirety, grey smoke wafted in the air with soot and ash. A Coast Guard clipper arrived at the scene with fire hoses and extinguishers to douse the flames inside the basket and the sand bags. Not even a splash from the cold fresh water did much to smother this out-of-control fire. Arson? Explosives? Sabotaged burners that ran out of gas from a leak? Those thoughts swirled in my mind.
As I swam closer to the victim, the fireman in the boat stopped me with a smirk and folded his arms at his waist. "Not so fast. You've proved your point in the bet, and we'll take it over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold or get hypothermia or pneumonia..."
I haven't gotten that far on what the prize would be, other than plain boasting and bragging rights. "I wanted to ten to that victim and see if he's all right and take him safely to the shore... Lieutenant."
He scoffed and glanced at the smoldered hot air balloon. Two fire fighters on his boat had managed to douse the flame. Two Coast Guard officers helped tend to the victim's needs and take him to the nearest hospital back at the shore. "It's already taken care of, Miss Ross. Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous.
My lips quivered from the cold. With a closer look, I peaked at the half-ruined hot air balloon's envelope and frowned at the faded colors of white, red, and blue, that had now turned into a smeared design with a missing logo or emblem. On the clipper, they've taken him away at a fast pace. As I reached my hand toward O'Dowd, I extended it to him to help me climb inside the boat. I wrapped myself in a warm blanket as we sped past the other fire boat that gathered the hot air balloon to tow it away for evidence. But I knew I'd recognized it and the letters for the Astor Fields BalloonFest to do promotions for the big event two weeks away. Was he a participant? Did I know him? Dd someone want to take him out of the competition so early on, even if it as a crime?
"Satisfied, Miss Ross," Logan said. "But I didn't know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold waters?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to lend a hand and save a life. I guessed I did in a way." During the rest of the ride, I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the ride. See you around..Logan." I jumped out of the boat and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward the sand and then to my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later, after I dried off and changed clothes, I drove away and headed toward Emberly Heights, not knowing if I ever see him again. Or the mystery on why that hot air balloon crash landed in Lake Michigan, or if it it was connected to one another.
7
Week 3 posts / The Final Goodbye-Draft 3
« on: November 22, 2019, 09:49:31 PM »
The Final Goodbye
The lights flickered out in Adrienne Sinclair's office. In the dark, she grabbed her flashlight to find her way out.
Thunder boomed in the distance. Lightning crackled across an evening sky. Torrential rain drenched the streets. She groaned. What else can go wrong tonight?
A mysterious envelope laid by the door's crack. She widened her eyes on the pocketbook and stashed it in her pocketbook. ?What the hell? I have no time for this or selfless mind games.?
Adrienne snatched her poncho, her briefcase, and her key ring. A thunderstorm reminded her from when they last cracked a safe together and made love. It carried a subtle hint of d?ja vu too.
She sprinted to the front desk and zipped across the parking lot. She hopped inside her car to dry off and get warm. As she started her engine, she fished for her spare flashlight in the glove compartment, and lifted the envelope to inspect the address.
There weren't any train tracks shown. The woman looked like her in disguise as a fellow cat burglar. Dressed in black, she held a lightning rod on a stormy night like this one.
Sebastian. She shook out her clammy hands as sweat beads formed on her forehead. 'Rennie, you know where to find me. Follow the clues. Sebastian.'?
Thunder rattled. Lightning struck twice near the complex. Too close for comfort. She peeled away, flicked on her wipers, and headed for the highway.
At first glance, she'd known where to find him at their secret hiding place. Clandestine trysts and plotted moves in a treasure-trove filled cubbyhole. ?The Amtak train station.?
Taped on the other side of the photo, a skeleton key at the Amtrak station in Inverness. He kept this knowledge away from her. She sent him to prison and through with his tedious cat-and-mouse games. Sebastian knew where to get her. When intrigued, she would look for him.
The platform and the antenanae held at Amtrak's station in Inverness. Inside the depot, his skeleton key opened a secret locker. After all this time, he kept this knowledge from her. ?Sonofabitch!?
A dawning thought hit her like lightning striking twice in a pitch dark night. ?Bastian wouldn't dare to try to trap me? Or would he??
At the parking lot, she veered to the right and stopped at the nearest slot, nearest to the entrance, She checked the train schedule on her tablet. Surveyed the tracks. Not many people in the terminal. ?A half-hour before it arrives. Just like old times, too.?
She hopped out and dashed to the sliding doors. No security detail around, except for the surveillance videos.
She returned her gaze to the photo once more... and flipped it to the back. Sebastian wrote the number and its location. I hope I won't find you there, Bastian. ?'320?Near Cotati Gate.'?
That wasn't too far for her. With her penlight, she kept the beam shining bright in the darkened hallway.
She placed her gloved fingers on the lock and turned around. Too hard to detect any moving shadows. But she could hear her heart beating inside her chest. She preferred to pick the lock than spinning any dials. Easy to break, easy to crack the safe.
?Bastian, where are you?? Adrienne asked. She couldn't shake this feeling he lurked around somewhere like last week at the Point Reyes Shipwreck.
?Turn around, Rennie!? Sebastian approached her in a big stride.
She jumped and dropped her penlight on the tiled floor. She hated him when he scared her like that and scowled. ?Why are you here? What's going on? Are you alone??
?Yeah. But I believe I'm being watched...? He darted his eyes across the hallway. ?I've cut a deal.?
I don't like the way this sounds. I wouldn't bail him out anymore. ?What? What deal?? Did he know something else he didn't let on again?
?With the D.A.'s office. For a lesser sentence, I've told them what I know and kept your name out of it.?
Someone like him should spend twenty years behind bars. She blinked. ?Go on. Thanks, Bastian, I guess. What sentence??
?Immunity to testify against my former employers. The whole damned lot.?
Adrienne gasped.Was this some death wish? ?You've turned State's evidence against them for probation or lesser jail time??
Sebastian nodded and stepped closer to her. ?Yes. I know they're dangerous and ruthless.? He stood close to her.
Tears formed in her eyes and streaked her cheeks. ?Why? They would kill you more than me.? She feared for his life along with her own. No matter how much she hated him, she never stopped loving him.
?To be with you and to be free from them. Tha's why I'm entrusting you with what's inside the locker. Open it.?
?Key??
He handed it to her and stood back. He swiped her cheeks with his black gloved hands. ?My lips are sealed.?
Adrienne opened it and shone the penlight inside. Bound moneybags, another letter stack, journal entries, and small framed artwork along with Da Vinci's secret project. Her jaw dropped. ?Woah! No idea there was more....? Holy cow! Is this the Holy Grail? If they ever found out about the missing loot and Sebastian double-crossing them, both their lives would be at stake. She understood why he placed his livelihood on the line. For her. She needed a safe place to hide it and away from Inverness. Maybe in Cotati?
?That's all I've stolen from our former fencers. It's for you.?
?Why??
?Because I never stopped loving you. I need a safe place to hide and go off-the grid for awhile. Watch your back, Rennie.? Sebastian disappeared into the darkness, leaving her in silence.
Adrienne's heart slid down to her throat. She looked both ways, stashed the items into the duffel bags from the locker, and made her way to the Cotati gate. If anyone were onto her, she would board the Amtrak train and go underground.
The lights flickered out in Adrienne Sinclair's office. In the dark, she grabbed her flashlight to find her way out.
Thunder boomed in the distance. Lightning crackled across an evening sky. Torrential rain drenched the streets. She groaned. What else can go wrong tonight?
A mysterious envelope laid by the door's crack. She widened her eyes on the pocketbook and stashed it in her pocketbook. ?What the hell? I have no time for this or selfless mind games.?
Adrienne snatched her poncho, her briefcase, and her key ring. A thunderstorm reminded her from when they last cracked a safe together and made love. It carried a subtle hint of d?ja vu too.
She sprinted to the front desk and zipped across the parking lot. She hopped inside her car to dry off and get warm. As she started her engine, she fished for her spare flashlight in the glove compartment, and lifted the envelope to inspect the address.
There weren't any train tracks shown. The woman looked like her in disguise as a fellow cat burglar. Dressed in black, she held a lightning rod on a stormy night like this one.
Sebastian. She shook out her clammy hands as sweat beads formed on her forehead. 'Rennie, you know where to find me. Follow the clues. Sebastian.'?
Thunder rattled. Lightning struck twice near the complex. Too close for comfort. She peeled away, flicked on her wipers, and headed for the highway.
At first glance, she'd known where to find him at their secret hiding place. Clandestine trysts and plotted moves in a treasure-trove filled cubbyhole. ?The Amtak train station.?
Taped on the other side of the photo, a skeleton key at the Amtrak station in Inverness. He kept this knowledge away from her. She sent him to prison and through with his tedious cat-and-mouse games. Sebastian knew where to get her. When intrigued, she would look for him.
The platform and the antenanae held at Amtrak's station in Inverness. Inside the depot, his skeleton key opened a secret locker. After all this time, he kept this knowledge from her. ?Sonofabitch!?
A dawning thought hit her like lightning striking twice in a pitch dark night. ?Bastian wouldn't dare to try to trap me? Or would he??
At the parking lot, she veered to the right and stopped at the nearest slot, nearest to the entrance, She checked the train schedule on her tablet. Surveyed the tracks. Not many people in the terminal. ?A half-hour before it arrives. Just like old times, too.?
She hopped out and dashed to the sliding doors. No security detail around, except for the surveillance videos.
She returned her gaze to the photo once more... and flipped it to the back. Sebastian wrote the number and its location. I hope I won't find you there, Bastian. ?'320?Near Cotati Gate.'?
That wasn't too far for her. With her penlight, she kept the beam shining bright in the darkened hallway.
She placed her gloved fingers on the lock and turned around. Too hard to detect any moving shadows. But she could hear her heart beating inside her chest. She preferred to pick the lock than spinning any dials. Easy to break, easy to crack the safe.
?Bastian, where are you?? Adrienne asked. She couldn't shake this feeling he lurked around somewhere like last week at the Point Reyes Shipwreck.
?Turn around, Rennie!? Sebastian approached her in a big stride.
She jumped and dropped her penlight on the tiled floor. She hated him when he scared her like that and scowled. ?Why are you here? What's going on? Are you alone??
?Yeah. But I believe I'm being watched...? He darted his eyes across the hallway. ?I've cut a deal.?
I don't like the way this sounds. I wouldn't bail him out anymore. ?What? What deal?? Did he know something else he didn't let on again?
?With the D.A.'s office. For a lesser sentence, I've told them what I know and kept your name out of it.?
Someone like him should spend twenty years behind bars. She blinked. ?Go on. Thanks, Bastian, I guess. What sentence??
?Immunity to testify against my former employers. The whole damned lot.?
Adrienne gasped.Was this some death wish? ?You've turned State's evidence against them for probation or lesser jail time??
Sebastian nodded and stepped closer to her. ?Yes. I know they're dangerous and ruthless.? He stood close to her.
Tears formed in her eyes and streaked her cheeks. ?Why? They would kill you more than me.? She feared for his life along with her own. No matter how much she hated him, she never stopped loving him.
?To be with you and to be free from them. Tha's why I'm entrusting you with what's inside the locker. Open it.?
?Key??
He handed it to her and stood back. He swiped her cheeks with his black gloved hands. ?My lips are sealed.?
Adrienne opened it and shone the penlight inside. Bound moneybags, another letter stack, journal entries, and small framed artwork along with Da Vinci's secret project. Her jaw dropped. ?Woah! No idea there was more....? Holy cow! Is this the Holy Grail? If they ever found out about the missing loot and Sebastian double-crossing them, both their lives would be at stake. She understood why he placed his livelihood on the line. For her. She needed a safe place to hide it and away from Inverness. Maybe in Cotati?
?That's all I've stolen from our former fencers. It's for you.?
?Why??
?Because I never stopped loving you. I need a safe place to hide and go off-the grid for awhile. Watch your back, Rennie.? Sebastian disappeared into the darkness, leaving her in silence.
Adrienne's heart slid down to her throat. She looked both ways, stashed the items into the duffel bags from the locker, and made her way to the Cotati gate. If anyone were onto her, she would board the Amtrak train and go underground.
8
Week 2 posts / The Final Goodbye
« on: November 15, 2019, 09:02:41 PM »
Here's my self-edited version before it goes to my two CPs this weekend. Enjoy!
The Final Goodbye
The flights flickered inside Adrienne Sinclair's office. When it darkened, she grabbed her flashlight to find her way out.
Thunder boomed in the distance. Lightning crackled across an evening sky. Torrential rain drenched the streets. She groaned. What else can go wrong tonight?
She spotted a mysterious envelope by the crack. She stashed it in her pocketbook and widened her eyes on the handwriting. ?What the hell? I have no time for this or selfless mind games.?
Adrienne snatched her poncho, her briefcase, and her key ring. Thunderstorms sometimes creeped her out like in the past. It carried a subtle hint of d?ja vu too.
She sprinted to the front desk and zipped across the parking lot. She escaped inside her car to dry off and get warm. As she started her engine, she fished for her penlight in the glove compartment, and lifted the envelope.
Sebastian. Once again, you're getting under my skin. ?'Rennie, you know where to find me. Follow the clues. Sebastian.'? If she wasn't stuck in this storm, she would've ripped the photo in half.. after she memorized it.
Thunder rattled. Lightning struck twice near the complex. Too close for comfort. She peeled away, flicked on her wipers, and headed for the highway.
At first glance, she'd known where to find her ex-lover, Sebastian Pruitt. Their secret hiding place where they held clandestine trysts. Plotted their next moves in a treasure trove-filled cubbyhole. ?The Amtak train station to Cotati.?
There weren't any train tracks shown. The woman looked like her in disguise as a fellow cat burglar. Dressed in black, she held a lightning rod on a stormy night like this one.
The platform and the antenanae were held at Amtrak's station in Inverness. Inside the depot, that key led to a secret locker. ?Sonofabitch!? Why would he send me this note when I've sent him to prison, a week ago? While Sebastian waited for trial, he led her to where he stashed more stolen goods. Like a dog chasing its tail, she flared her nostrils at his cat-and-mouse games once again.
Adrienne focused on the words ?cat-and-mouse? in her head. How ironic did he think he was some big cheese? Or referred to his loot, too? Was she the ?cat?, who trapped him and sent him packing? Did he consider himself the ?mouse? in question? I'm no longer a cat burgular anymore, when he's still up to his tricks as usual. A dawning thought hit her like Zeus's trident striking in a pitch dark night. ?Bastian wouldn't daren't to try to trap me in payback... and from behind bars. Or would he??
At the parking lot, she veered to the right and stopped at the nearest slot, closest to the entrance. She checked the train schedule on her tablet. Survyed the tracks. Not many people in the empty terminal. ?A half-hour before it arrives on schedule. Just like old times, too.?
She hopped out and dashed to the sliding doors. She raised her brows to not see any security detail around, except for the surveillance videos. She preferred to pick the lock than spin the combination dials. Easy to break, easy to crack the safe.
She returned her gaze to the photo once more... and flipped it to the backing. Sebastian wrote the number and its location. I hope I won't find you there, Bastian. ?'320?Near Cotati Gate.'?
That wasn't too far for her. Straight ahead. Ten paces toward the right and to the vending machines. With her penlight, she kept the beam shining bright in the darkened hallway.
She placed her gloved fingers on the lock and turned around. Too hard to detect any moving shadows. But she could hear her heart beating inside her chest.
?Come out, come out, wherever you are, Bastian,? Adrienne said. She couldn't shake this feeling he lurked around somewhere like last week at the Point Reyes Shipwreck.
?Boo!? Sebastian approached her and laughed out loud.
She jumped and dropped her penlight on the tiled floor. She hated him when he scared her like that and scowled. ?Why are you here? Aren't you in jail, awaiting trial?? She didn't hear any prison or jail breaks in the news.
?I've been released on bail by my lawyers and made a deal.?
I don't like the way this sounds. I wouldn't bail him out anymore. ?What? What deal?? Did he know something else he didn't let on again?
?With the D.A.'s office. For a lesser sentence, I've told them what I know and kept your name out of it.?
Someone like him should spend twenty years behind bars. He took the easy way out. She blinked. ?Go on. Thanks, Bastian, I guess. What sentence??
?Immunity in exchange for my testimony against my former employers. The whole damned lot.?
Adrienne gasped. If she'd known anything, they were dangerous and would kill him on the spot. Was
this some death wish? ?You've turned State's evidence against them for probation or lesser jail time??
Sebastian nodded and stepped closer to her. ?Yes. A lighter sentence of five years and four months of community service. Two years probation. My trial's two months from here...?
?Why? They would kill you more than me.? When she worked undercover, she fell for him, and learned insight from Bastian himself.
?I know they're ruthless. But that's why I'm entrusting you with what's inside the locker. Open it.?
First the safe on the ship, now a locker in this train station. ?Key??
He handed it to her and stood back. ?My lips are sealed.?
Adrienne opened it and shone the penlight inside. Bound money bags, another letter stack, journal entries, and small framed artwork along with Da Vinci's secret project. Her jaw dropped. ?Woah! No idea there was more...?.?
?That's all I've stolen from our former fencers. It's for you.?
?Why??
?Because I'll be placed under WitSec until my trial. It's goodbye for now.? Sebastian vanished. Except for his retreating footsteps.
The Final Goodbye
The flights flickered inside Adrienne Sinclair's office. When it darkened, she grabbed her flashlight to find her way out.
Thunder boomed in the distance. Lightning crackled across an evening sky. Torrential rain drenched the streets. She groaned. What else can go wrong tonight?
She spotted a mysterious envelope by the crack. She stashed it in her pocketbook and widened her eyes on the handwriting. ?What the hell? I have no time for this or selfless mind games.?
Adrienne snatched her poncho, her briefcase, and her key ring. Thunderstorms sometimes creeped her out like in the past. It carried a subtle hint of d?ja vu too.
She sprinted to the front desk and zipped across the parking lot. She escaped inside her car to dry off and get warm. As she started her engine, she fished for her penlight in the glove compartment, and lifted the envelope.
Sebastian. Once again, you're getting under my skin. ?'Rennie, you know where to find me. Follow the clues. Sebastian.'? If she wasn't stuck in this storm, she would've ripped the photo in half.. after she memorized it.
Thunder rattled. Lightning struck twice near the complex. Too close for comfort. She peeled away, flicked on her wipers, and headed for the highway.
At first glance, she'd known where to find her ex-lover, Sebastian Pruitt. Their secret hiding place where they held clandestine trysts. Plotted their next moves in a treasure trove-filled cubbyhole. ?The Amtak train station to Cotati.?
There weren't any train tracks shown. The woman looked like her in disguise as a fellow cat burglar. Dressed in black, she held a lightning rod on a stormy night like this one.
The platform and the antenanae were held at Amtrak's station in Inverness. Inside the depot, that key led to a secret locker. ?Sonofabitch!? Why would he send me this note when I've sent him to prison, a week ago? While Sebastian waited for trial, he led her to where he stashed more stolen goods. Like a dog chasing its tail, she flared her nostrils at his cat-and-mouse games once again.
Adrienne focused on the words ?cat-and-mouse? in her head. How ironic did he think he was some big cheese? Or referred to his loot, too? Was she the ?cat?, who trapped him and sent him packing? Did he consider himself the ?mouse? in question? I'm no longer a cat burgular anymore, when he's still up to his tricks as usual. A dawning thought hit her like Zeus's trident striking in a pitch dark night. ?Bastian wouldn't daren't to try to trap me in payback... and from behind bars. Or would he??
At the parking lot, she veered to the right and stopped at the nearest slot, closest to the entrance. She checked the train schedule on her tablet. Survyed the tracks. Not many people in the empty terminal. ?A half-hour before it arrives on schedule. Just like old times, too.?
She hopped out and dashed to the sliding doors. She raised her brows to not see any security detail around, except for the surveillance videos. She preferred to pick the lock than spin the combination dials. Easy to break, easy to crack the safe.
She returned her gaze to the photo once more... and flipped it to the backing. Sebastian wrote the number and its location. I hope I won't find you there, Bastian. ?'320?Near Cotati Gate.'?
That wasn't too far for her. Straight ahead. Ten paces toward the right and to the vending machines. With her penlight, she kept the beam shining bright in the darkened hallway.
She placed her gloved fingers on the lock and turned around. Too hard to detect any moving shadows. But she could hear her heart beating inside her chest.
?Come out, come out, wherever you are, Bastian,? Adrienne said. She couldn't shake this feeling he lurked around somewhere like last week at the Point Reyes Shipwreck.
?Boo!? Sebastian approached her and laughed out loud.
She jumped and dropped her penlight on the tiled floor. She hated him when he scared her like that and scowled. ?Why are you here? Aren't you in jail, awaiting trial?? She didn't hear any prison or jail breaks in the news.
?I've been released on bail by my lawyers and made a deal.?
I don't like the way this sounds. I wouldn't bail him out anymore. ?What? What deal?? Did he know something else he didn't let on again?
?With the D.A.'s office. For a lesser sentence, I've told them what I know and kept your name out of it.?
Someone like him should spend twenty years behind bars. He took the easy way out. She blinked. ?Go on. Thanks, Bastian, I guess. What sentence??
?Immunity in exchange for my testimony against my former employers. The whole damned lot.?
Adrienne gasped. If she'd known anything, they were dangerous and would kill him on the spot. Was
this some death wish? ?You've turned State's evidence against them for probation or lesser jail time??
Sebastian nodded and stepped closer to her. ?Yes. A lighter sentence of five years and four months of community service. Two years probation. My trial's two months from here...?
?Why? They would kill you more than me.? When she worked undercover, she fell for him, and learned insight from Bastian himself.
?I know they're ruthless. But that's why I'm entrusting you with what's inside the locker. Open it.?
First the safe on the ship, now a locker in this train station. ?Key??
He handed it to her and stood back. ?My lips are sealed.?
Adrienne opened it and shone the penlight inside. Bound money bags, another letter stack, journal entries, and small framed artwork along with Da Vinci's secret project. Her jaw dropped. ?Woah! No idea there was more...?.?
?That's all I've stolen from our former fencers. It's for you.?
?Why??
?Because I'll be placed under WitSec until my trial. It's goodbye for now.? Sebastian vanished. Except for his retreating footsteps.
9
Week 1 posts / Re: Draft 1 - Towering - Fantasy/Horror
« on: November 11, 2019, 12:08:53 AM »
Natalie, I love the imagery in this piece. It's so vivid and atmospheric with the fog. Nice work!
10
Week 1 posts / Re: First Draft: The Imposter We Traded
« on: November 11, 2019, 12:07:15 AM »
Talynn, what a charming first draft. I love the title and the image of a Cloud Goddess. I can't wait to see your revised versions of this and how you take this further.
11
Week 1 posts / Re: Draft 1
« on: November 11, 2019, 12:05:45 AM »
Great job on the first draft. What a visionary world to look into the future.
12
Week 1 posts / Re: Untitled Witches Draft 1
« on: November 11, 2019, 12:04:17 AM »
Jen, nice job with this first draft. I love the supernatural vibe coming from this story of ghosts and witches. Shazam!
13
Week 1 posts / Re: Rainey's Painting (First - Ahem - Draft)
« on: November 11, 2019, 12:02:43 AM »
PJ, an interesting and fun concept to write about. I would love to see how you shape this into your first revision.
14
Week 1 posts / Re: The Drowning Game - First Draft
« on: November 11, 2019, 12:00:35 AM »
Wicked, what a great first draft to capture a party scene with family. Thanks for sharing this memorable piece in honor of your loss.
15
Week 1 posts / Re: Draft 1 by Blue :)
« on: November 09, 2019, 11:56:14 PM »
I second what Grim Dreamer said. I loved the Greek mythology theme. Nice way to slip it in there and have a god-like battle in the sky.
Pages: [1] 2