Dear Chocolate

Dear Chocolate,

I've been thinking about you a lot lately, more than at any other point since we met all those years ago. Do you remember that first meeting? It was late at night and I had just returned home after a grueling night of walking around knocking on doors. My father always complained about having to go door to door in order to put food on the table. He never liked it. For the first time, I understood some of his frustration. I'd collected enough food for a long time, but my feet hurt, my arm was sore from lugging the food through all those doors, and my nose was red from the cold.

Then my parents told me that I should taste the fruit of my labor. I was sure that meant I'd be getting an apple for snack, but they put all the food on the table and told me to choose. I was in awe at all the color and shapes spread before me. Somehow, you were pushed aside, your drab wrapping and flat shape easy to overlook. But I didn't overlook you. It took time, but I found you and immediately knew we would have a wonderful friendship for years to come. We've shared smiles and laughter, tears and toils. No matter what the cause, I could always turn to you. You were always sweet and I have savored our relationship!

That is why this is so hard to say. But it must be said. Our relationship has moved well beyond the bounds of healthy. We can no longer maintain the close relationship that we've had for as long as I can remember. As sad a day as this is, it is in my best interest. My dear friend, it is over. You will be dearly missed, but the dream of that itsy bitsy yellow polka-dot bikini will never be a reality as long as you are around.

Sincerely,

Me

*** One Minute Writer ***

Costume

I was really going to have to think about how to get people to understand the little boy under the red stain material with the red tinsel taped on to it was a hairy red ghost.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked. I couldn't see his face under the material, but I could hear the pride in his voice.

"I don't know what to say other than wow." I hoped I sounded positively awestruck.

*** One Word ***

Table

Her deep mahogany body and delicate curves set my heart aflutter. Slowly, I let my eyes take in her every grace and then my hands followed where my eyes had roamed. I hadn't lusted after anything, or for that matter anyone, like this in a long time. Rekindling these emotions made me feel alive and daring. I knew she'd have a price and I probably couldn't afford her, but I didn't care how foolish I would look. "Excuse me sir," I asked the salesman walking by, "How much for this lovely table?"

*** One Word ***

Riders on the Storm

The three men crammed into the Volvo, their rag-tag equipment scattered over their laps,across the seat, and on the floor. "Where to?" John said, his blonde hair slicked back and face still scruffy from the early morning wake-up call.

Mark slammed the passenger door, the only way it would close securely. His words slipped over his blue plaid clad shoulder, "Head North on 51. I think the Barneveld area is our best bet."

John put the car in gear and it lurched forward. Little care was taken in looking for pedestrians or other drivers. No one was likely to be out at 4 am on the small college campus. As the wheels screeched around the corner, Sam finally spoke up. "We've got about 20 minutes before the storm cell passes." His speech was garbled from lack of sleep and because of the pencil he had clenched between his teeth. It was the most logical place to put it. He needed one hand to hold the earphones tight to his head in order to monitor the weather reports and the other to finish zipping and buttoning the pants he'd thrown on only minutes before.

As they drove around the gravel farm roads, Mark gave directions and Sam grunted his approval or disapproval. To the occasional farmer checking the barn and root cellar doors, the boys looked like they were drunk the way the car swerved across the road and raced back and froth. Finally, Sam signaled they should stop near a deep drain ditch. They clambered out and rapidly set up their equipment. A camera on a reinforced tripod, a hand held video camera was ducktaped to Mark's hand, a wind speed indicator, etc. And then they sat on the hood, adrenaline and anticipation causing their hearts to pump and hands to shake.

Wildly, their eyes searched the horizon for any sign that it would be their lucky day. The dark skies laid low. Clouds seemed to drop and then rise again. Humidity lay thick in the air while cool breezes tried to push it aside. Sam suddenly nudged Mark and then slid off the hood and ran the three feet to the wind indicator to flip it on. John alert to the movement moved to the camera and twisted it to the three o'clock position just in time to see the clouds flow down as if a man-made waterfall had been constructed just over the tree line. He captured stills of the eerie green sky as Mark scanned the horizon showing how turbulent the skies had become.

Slowly the funnel cloud wagged its tail, pushing it lower and lower to the ground until it touched the ground. "Well men, I believe we have a killer on the road. Yeah! Our thesis is made."

*** Daily Writing Practice ***

Telescope

The chill wind ruffled his hair and swayed the flowers gently in their beds. "Help me Mama," he said, nervously standing before the long black tube. Carefully, I covered an eye and instructed him to look without touching. His smile and excitement grew as I quietly explained that he was looking at Jupiter and four of it's moons, a sight most people would never see.

*** One Word ***

Castle

I walked into the kitchen, the stones cold under my feet and the smell of baking bread filling my nostrils. I was famished after such a long ride. Rarely did I have the luxury to leave the homestead and ride as far into the country as I had that afternoon. Setting my riding gear down at the door, I walked deeper in the room and felt a chill rise up my body. It was drafty. I guessed young Alexander had left the door to the stable yard open again

"Castle, watch out!" My husband was downstairs watching TV. Nothing like being woken from a daydream by today's technology.

*** One Minute Writer ***

Yellow

Johnathan sat on the ground, the book open in his lap, pondering the text he had read over and over that day. Scuffling feet drew his attention to where two boys stood across the street. The smaller of the boys stomped his foot while the bigger boy pretended to cower in fear; a sweet game often played out between siblings. Yes, Johnathan thought, that's what they meant by the older brother playing at being a yellow-belly.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***