The first five people to respond to this post will get something made by me!
I saw a similar post on Sister Clutter's blog and I thought, "hey, this could be fun." So I decided to do it! I get a homemade gift from Leslie, and I get the chance to make some gifts for friends.
This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:
1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make!
2. It'll be done this year. Hopefully sooner than later.
3. You have no clue what it's going to be. It may be sewn, scrapbooky, baked, or it may be something totally random that I come up with on a whim. Who knows? Not you - until you receive your gift!
4. I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.
The catch? The catch is that you must repost this on your blog and offer the same to the first 5 people who do the same on your blog. Let's get those homemade gifts going! So, the first 5 people to leave a comment telling me they are doing it also, will receive a gift - made with my two hands! (Although you may be taking your chances with that...)Be sure to post pictures of what you won when you recieve it!
Friday, March 13, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Dare
I wrote this one with nothing really in mind but the ending. i knew how i wanted the story to end but that was it so i kind of wrote it backwards.
Billy was going to punch Greg right in the face and there was very little anyone could do to stop it. He ran out into the street, down 1st avenue and then crossed 5th. When he got to Oak Lane he went straight inside of the Bouncing Dumpling, the restaurant where Greg hung out. There in the back was Greg with his friends. They were all two years older than Billy, and all about a foot taller. Billy ran straight up to Greg but stopped to catch his breath.
“What’s up?” Greg asked.
“Greg…” Billy was breathing too hard.
“What is it, is everything all right?”
“Greg… I…I”
“Billy what’s wrong, is someone hurt?” Billy felt bad because Greg and his friends were really nice guys but this had to be done.
“Greg I’m sorry.” And then he punched him. He threw all the strength he could muster into that one punch and landed it right on the jaw. Greg was stunned, but only for a moment, which is what Billy needed to start running again. Right before he made it to the door he heard Greg’s voice ordering his friends to action.
“Get him!” Billy turned left outside the door and sprinted at top speed then down the closet alleyway hoping they hadn’t seen him. But just in case he took the Ally to the end and came out on 7th. Unfortunately Greg and his gang had gone right and were coming out on 7th a block away at the same time. It was an instant before they were after him, and they were fresh, Billy had run all the way to the restaurant and was getting tiered all ready. He took off north hoping to make it to the park and loose them in a crowd. The park however was almost empty due to some construction near the entrance, so Billy had to keep to the streets, the whole time Greg and his gang hot on his heels. He tried throwing trashcans in their way and sneaking around corners when he thought they couldn’t see him, he tried every trick he knew, but they just kept coming.
Then he saw his way out, there was a line outside of the movie theatre. He headed straight for it and began to weave his way in and out of the line. Bumping a person here shoving another there, causing as much person movement and commotion as possible. He could hear Greg and his friends working through the crowd behind him, but with all the people he had already pushed and shoved the crowd was making hard for them to get through. He had to take a chance and he darted from the line towards the building. He crouched down in a corner hidden from the street by the crowd. If he was lucky Greg and his friends would work their way through the crowd and continue chasing down the street. Billy couldn’t even watch, he pushed his head between his legs and covered it with his arms. He waited there for a whole 5 minutes before peeking out. He was alone, still shielded from the streets by the line at the movies, but no one had found him.
Billy began to work his way back to his house. Dashing from crowd to building or whatever would give him cover. He avoided places he thought Greg would go, and peeked around every corner. When he was a block away he sprinted again right down the side walk, up the stairs, through the living room and to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him breathing hard. Kent, Jon, and Charlie were there waiting for him.
“Did you do it?” Kent asked. Billy nodded still trying to catch his breath. They all gathered round as Billy told them the story. When he was done they all congratulated him.
“Alright it’s my turn now, Charlie Truth or Dare?”
Billy was going to punch Greg right in the face and there was very little anyone could do to stop it. He ran out into the street, down 1st avenue and then crossed 5th. When he got to Oak Lane he went straight inside of the Bouncing Dumpling, the restaurant where Greg hung out. There in the back was Greg with his friends. They were all two years older than Billy, and all about a foot taller. Billy ran straight up to Greg but stopped to catch his breath.
“What’s up?” Greg asked.
“Greg…” Billy was breathing too hard.
“What is it, is everything all right?”
“Greg… I…I”
“Billy what’s wrong, is someone hurt?” Billy felt bad because Greg and his friends were really nice guys but this had to be done.
“Greg I’m sorry.” And then he punched him. He threw all the strength he could muster into that one punch and landed it right on the jaw. Greg was stunned, but only for a moment, which is what Billy needed to start running again. Right before he made it to the door he heard Greg’s voice ordering his friends to action.
“Get him!” Billy turned left outside the door and sprinted at top speed then down the closet alleyway hoping they hadn’t seen him. But just in case he took the Ally to the end and came out on 7th. Unfortunately Greg and his gang had gone right and were coming out on 7th a block away at the same time. It was an instant before they were after him, and they were fresh, Billy had run all the way to the restaurant and was getting tiered all ready. He took off north hoping to make it to the park and loose them in a crowd. The park however was almost empty due to some construction near the entrance, so Billy had to keep to the streets, the whole time Greg and his gang hot on his heels. He tried throwing trashcans in their way and sneaking around corners when he thought they couldn’t see him, he tried every trick he knew, but they just kept coming.
Then he saw his way out, there was a line outside of the movie theatre. He headed straight for it and began to weave his way in and out of the line. Bumping a person here shoving another there, causing as much person movement and commotion as possible. He could hear Greg and his friends working through the crowd behind him, but with all the people he had already pushed and shoved the crowd was making hard for them to get through. He had to take a chance and he darted from the line towards the building. He crouched down in a corner hidden from the street by the crowd. If he was lucky Greg and his friends would work their way through the crowd and continue chasing down the street. Billy couldn’t even watch, he pushed his head between his legs and covered it with his arms. He waited there for a whole 5 minutes before peeking out. He was alone, still shielded from the streets by the line at the movies, but no one had found him.
Billy began to work his way back to his house. Dashing from crowd to building or whatever would give him cover. He avoided places he thought Greg would go, and peeked around every corner. When he was a block away he sprinted again right down the side walk, up the stairs, through the living room and to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him breathing hard. Kent, Jon, and Charlie were there waiting for him.
“Did you do it?” Kent asked. Billy nodded still trying to catch his breath. They all gathered round as Billy told them the story. When he was done they all congratulated him.
“Alright it’s my turn now, Charlie Truth or Dare?”
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
French Connection
Allen sat at the end of the bar in the French tavern. He had kept his slicker on when he entered and it had dripped a little puddle of water on the floor beneath his stool. His hat was on the bar in front of him, next to his drink, what the French call whiskey; Tasted like paint thinner. It was raining outside; it seemed to rain a lot here. The owner of the tavern was shifting around from table to table checking on his guests; Allen kept tabs on him by using the mirror behind the bar. The owner’s wife minded the bar and flirted with most of the men who came in. she had tried to flirt with Allen, he wasn’t interested. Above the bar was a television reporting the news. As day became night more people arrived at the tavern. No one seemed to notice when September came in. he took the seat next to Allen and ordered some wine using perfect French.
“We can buy the boat but without the Navy’s permission we can’t sail to England.”
“Then Parliament needs to hurry up and give us approval. We have about two days left.” Allen felt the trouble before he saw the man come running into the tavern. He was screaming historically and his right arm was covered in blood. The Tavern owner rushed forward with a few of the men and tried to calm him down. The only French words Allen recognized were the bad ones. The owner and his friends seemed to calm the man down and began to clean the wounds on his arm. Allen looked at September questioningly.
“He was attacked by dogs.” September replied. “Probably wild dogs, maybe even wolves.”
“Wolf is your brother isn’t he? Why are there wolves all over the world but not coyotes?”
“Wolf is more ambitious then I am. He traveled the world leaving children everywhere he went. He likes a good legacy.”
“Do the wolves listen to you?”
“Sometimes, but if wolves did this, I doubt they are listeners.”
Allen noticed that the owner’s wife behind the bar was growing increasingly nervous. She was clutching a bar towel and twisting it between her hands. Allen asked September to talk to here. September called out to her for another drink, when she approached he quietly asked her what was wrong. She began an explanation, quietly at first but as she continued her voice became louder and faster. All of a sudden her husband was there scolding her, and sent her to the other end of the bar. “I am sorry for my wife sirs,” he spoke in his best English, “living this close to the channel has caused many people to become superstitious, especially the women. Many people have claimed strange instances lately but the stories become greater and more fantastic every time one wife tells another.”
“What happened to your friend?” Allen asked.
“He is not my friend sir, he is the town drunk, and my best customer you could say. He probably fell into some ones yard and got attacked by their dog. It has happened before. Please do not worry about him he will be fine.” The owner shifted off again, this time to help carry the wounded man into a back room. Once he was gone Allen asked September what the wife had been trying to tell them.
“She was saying that there had been quite a few dog attacks in this park of the country lately. It is said that there is a large pack of dogs or possibly wolves roaming Northern France. There are strange stories told where ever they are sited. She is afraid of lycanthropes.”
“What are lycanthropes?”
“Werewolves of course.”
“What are werewolves?” September looked at Allen disappointingly.
“What do you mean what are werewolves? Everyone knows what werewolves are.”
“Is there an Indian word for it; is it like a skin walker?”
“No, there is no Indian word for it. It’s a werewolf. Didn’t you ever watch any movies growing up?” that’s when September remembered who he was talking to. “Oh yea, you spent all your time outdoors with your cows. Well I’m not going to tell you what it is, because if it turns out to be one I don’t want to ruin it for you.” That put Allen in a bad mood. He had too much to think about as it was without trying to find out what a werewolf is, much less how to stop one. He was so busy brooding that he almost didn’t notice when the three police officers came through the tavern straight to the back room.
Not long after that Allen got a very bad feeling. Something bad was going to happen in that back room. Allen had developed a Trouble sense through his training with September; he always seemed to know when bad news was coming or when things would go from bad to worse. This made him annoyed more than anything else; it was quite a mood killer. “Let’s take that table over there and get some dinner.” Allen indicated a table in the corner a few feet away from the door the police had entered. They moved and September ordered something off the menu that Allen couldn’t read. “Is it ok to shoot a werewolf?” asked Allen one the Owners wife had left to get their food.
“It’s a universally excepted habit, shooting werewolves.”
“Good.” Replied Allen and he unbuttoned his coat for the first time that night and let his hand fall to the gun he wore on his belt. He only had a minute before the trouble he felt would be upon them. That pissed him off. Almost exactly a minute later there came a commotion from the back room. At first it sounded like they were moving the furniture around, but then the screaming began, and then the roar. A few of the patrons at the Tavern got up and began to run towards the door, but Allen stepped in their way. He threw back his coat and drew his gun sending the patrons a few steps back, but the gun was not for them. Allen turned quickly and dashed into the back room before anyone could follow him. There were three gunshots, a crash, a scream, and then Allen came flying back threw the doorway crashing into a table. He pulled himself just in time to see the werewolf come through the door. This half man half wolf monster hit harder then Allen wanted to admit, and bullets didn’t seem to have done much to improve the beast’s mood.
The werewolf leapt at Allen, giving him just enough time to curse and throw his arms up to block the blow. The monster caught Allen’s left arm in its jaws as it landed on top of him bringing him back down to the floor. Allen kicked at the beast from beneath it, landing what he thought were some really good blows but the werewolf seemed unaffected. All of a sudden the owner’s wife threw a pair of candle sticks at the monster from behind the bar, Allen who appreciated the effort was sure that the woman had just sealed her doom, but to his surprise the candles stick knocked the beast off of Allen and they really seemed to hurt him. The werewolf looked confused for a moment but then took off for the front door and as fast as it had come it was gone.
Allen once again pulled himself up from the floor and began to dust himself off. He then walked back to the back room to retrieve his gun, giving September a dirty look as he passed. When he came out it was with the tavern owner and the three policemen. They had all been torn up badly and were in need of some serious medical attention. September informed him that an ambulance had already been called for. “Did that thing bite you?” he asked curiously looking at the blood coming from Allen’s left arm.
“Yea.” Allen answered angrily; he had that feeling that bad news was coming.
“You see,” September started out, “that’s how the curse is transmitted, I’m pretty sure you have it now, and so do they.” He indicated the wounded men Allen had dragged out of the back room.
“You gonna tell me how to get rid of this dang curse them?” Allen spat out.
“Oh you’ll like this; you have to kill the one that bit you.” Allen did like that. He picked up one of the candle sticks and held it up for September to see. “It’s the silver not the candlestick itself.”
“Good, I’m going up to my room to put on a shirt without a hole in the sleeve and get my rifle, when I get back I want something I can use.” Allen slammed the candlestick on the table in front of September and went upstairs. When he came back down there were 5 silver bullets and a small silver knife, but no candlestick. One of the perks of traveling with a god Allen thought, even if he was a mischievous lazy one.
“Allen,” September called out as he headed for the door, “I’m pretty sure you only have about 3 hours before you… you know.” Allen nodded his head as he went out the door. He was back in two with the body of the town drunk. He was covered in mud and blood and had ruined another shirt.
Allen stood in front of September with his arms held out to the sides. “Well, am I curse free? Did it work?” September said that it had. “Did anything else happen while I was out?” September held up an envelope and Allen took it. Inside was a declaration from the parliament allowing Allen to cross the Channel. “Grab our stuff out of the room we’re going.”
“Don’t you want to rest up and change?”
“I can change on the boat; I really want to get out of here.”
“We can buy the boat but without the Navy’s permission we can’t sail to England.”
“Then Parliament needs to hurry up and give us approval. We have about two days left.” Allen felt the trouble before he saw the man come running into the tavern. He was screaming historically and his right arm was covered in blood. The Tavern owner rushed forward with a few of the men and tried to calm him down. The only French words Allen recognized were the bad ones. The owner and his friends seemed to calm the man down and began to clean the wounds on his arm. Allen looked at September questioningly.
“He was attacked by dogs.” September replied. “Probably wild dogs, maybe even wolves.”
“Wolf is your brother isn’t he? Why are there wolves all over the world but not coyotes?”
“Wolf is more ambitious then I am. He traveled the world leaving children everywhere he went. He likes a good legacy.”
“Do the wolves listen to you?”
“Sometimes, but if wolves did this, I doubt they are listeners.”
Allen noticed that the owner’s wife behind the bar was growing increasingly nervous. She was clutching a bar towel and twisting it between her hands. Allen asked September to talk to here. September called out to her for another drink, when she approached he quietly asked her what was wrong. She began an explanation, quietly at first but as she continued her voice became louder and faster. All of a sudden her husband was there scolding her, and sent her to the other end of the bar. “I am sorry for my wife sirs,” he spoke in his best English, “living this close to the channel has caused many people to become superstitious, especially the women. Many people have claimed strange instances lately but the stories become greater and more fantastic every time one wife tells another.”
“What happened to your friend?” Allen asked.
“He is not my friend sir, he is the town drunk, and my best customer you could say. He probably fell into some ones yard and got attacked by their dog. It has happened before. Please do not worry about him he will be fine.” The owner shifted off again, this time to help carry the wounded man into a back room. Once he was gone Allen asked September what the wife had been trying to tell them.
“She was saying that there had been quite a few dog attacks in this park of the country lately. It is said that there is a large pack of dogs or possibly wolves roaming Northern France. There are strange stories told where ever they are sited. She is afraid of lycanthropes.”
“What are lycanthropes?”
“Werewolves of course.”
“What are werewolves?” September looked at Allen disappointingly.
“What do you mean what are werewolves? Everyone knows what werewolves are.”
“Is there an Indian word for it; is it like a skin walker?”
“No, there is no Indian word for it. It’s a werewolf. Didn’t you ever watch any movies growing up?” that’s when September remembered who he was talking to. “Oh yea, you spent all your time outdoors with your cows. Well I’m not going to tell you what it is, because if it turns out to be one I don’t want to ruin it for you.” That put Allen in a bad mood. He had too much to think about as it was without trying to find out what a werewolf is, much less how to stop one. He was so busy brooding that he almost didn’t notice when the three police officers came through the tavern straight to the back room.
Not long after that Allen got a very bad feeling. Something bad was going to happen in that back room. Allen had developed a Trouble sense through his training with September; he always seemed to know when bad news was coming or when things would go from bad to worse. This made him annoyed more than anything else; it was quite a mood killer. “Let’s take that table over there and get some dinner.” Allen indicated a table in the corner a few feet away from the door the police had entered. They moved and September ordered something off the menu that Allen couldn’t read. “Is it ok to shoot a werewolf?” asked Allen one the Owners wife had left to get their food.
“It’s a universally excepted habit, shooting werewolves.”
“Good.” Replied Allen and he unbuttoned his coat for the first time that night and let his hand fall to the gun he wore on his belt. He only had a minute before the trouble he felt would be upon them. That pissed him off. Almost exactly a minute later there came a commotion from the back room. At first it sounded like they were moving the furniture around, but then the screaming began, and then the roar. A few of the patrons at the Tavern got up and began to run towards the door, but Allen stepped in their way. He threw back his coat and drew his gun sending the patrons a few steps back, but the gun was not for them. Allen turned quickly and dashed into the back room before anyone could follow him. There were three gunshots, a crash, a scream, and then Allen came flying back threw the doorway crashing into a table. He pulled himself just in time to see the werewolf come through the door. This half man half wolf monster hit harder then Allen wanted to admit, and bullets didn’t seem to have done much to improve the beast’s mood.
The werewolf leapt at Allen, giving him just enough time to curse and throw his arms up to block the blow. The monster caught Allen’s left arm in its jaws as it landed on top of him bringing him back down to the floor. Allen kicked at the beast from beneath it, landing what he thought were some really good blows but the werewolf seemed unaffected. All of a sudden the owner’s wife threw a pair of candle sticks at the monster from behind the bar, Allen who appreciated the effort was sure that the woman had just sealed her doom, but to his surprise the candles stick knocked the beast off of Allen and they really seemed to hurt him. The werewolf looked confused for a moment but then took off for the front door and as fast as it had come it was gone.
Allen once again pulled himself up from the floor and began to dust himself off. He then walked back to the back room to retrieve his gun, giving September a dirty look as he passed. When he came out it was with the tavern owner and the three policemen. They had all been torn up badly and were in need of some serious medical attention. September informed him that an ambulance had already been called for. “Did that thing bite you?” he asked curiously looking at the blood coming from Allen’s left arm.
“Yea.” Allen answered angrily; he had that feeling that bad news was coming.
“You see,” September started out, “that’s how the curse is transmitted, I’m pretty sure you have it now, and so do they.” He indicated the wounded men Allen had dragged out of the back room.
“You gonna tell me how to get rid of this dang curse them?” Allen spat out.
“Oh you’ll like this; you have to kill the one that bit you.” Allen did like that. He picked up one of the candle sticks and held it up for September to see. “It’s the silver not the candlestick itself.”
“Good, I’m going up to my room to put on a shirt without a hole in the sleeve and get my rifle, when I get back I want something I can use.” Allen slammed the candlestick on the table in front of September and went upstairs. When he came back down there were 5 silver bullets and a small silver knife, but no candlestick. One of the perks of traveling with a god Allen thought, even if he was a mischievous lazy one.
“Allen,” September called out as he headed for the door, “I’m pretty sure you only have about 3 hours before you… you know.” Allen nodded his head as he went out the door. He was back in two with the body of the town drunk. He was covered in mud and blood and had ruined another shirt.
Allen stood in front of September with his arms held out to the sides. “Well, am I curse free? Did it work?” September said that it had. “Did anything else happen while I was out?” September held up an envelope and Allen took it. Inside was a declaration from the parliament allowing Allen to cross the Channel. “Grab our stuff out of the room we’re going.”
“Don’t you want to rest up and change?”
“I can change on the boat; I really want to get out of here.”
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