Friday, July 16

Friday Fiction: Second Thoughts

Today's Friday Fiction is a repeat from 2008. This version of Second Thoughts is elongated edit of my FaithWriters.com challenge entry for the "Truth or Dare" topic. This is what I WANTED it to be, before hacking 350 words from it to meet the word count limit. Enjoy!


---------------


SECOND THOUGHTS

I don’t know how to tell this, or even where to start really. I guess I should start with Tessa, seeing as how it this is mostly her fault.

She’s so much different. Most girls my age are all about their make up and their hair and dressing like a hottie, but Tessa – she is what she is and she’s happy with that. She’s the only girl I know who is happy looking like herself, that being the girl next door. And I mean girl. She could probly pass for 10 even though she’ll be 14 on her birthday come December. Besides her cute little nose that turns up at the end, she’s got gorgeous eyes – big and brown and shiny. Hair just as brown and shiny all the way down her back.

Anyway, back to the story. I wasn’t real happy about the plan but I didn’t want to be a wimp. It’s a guy thing, ya know? See, I never was one to back down from a dare, so I went along with it, and Tessa, she followed me like always. She must watch outta her window for me to walk past cuz she came out her front door right when I crossed her driveway.

She looked up at me all expectant like and asked me, “Where ya going? What’s going on tonight?”

I had tear myself away from those eyes of hers, and I told her, “Nothing you need know about. Whyn’t you stay home tonight?” I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans and shuffled around a bit.

Just like her, she said, “Pah. I’m going.”

I rolled my eyes, shrugged, and started walking again. Tessa was glued to my side like my shadow. One thing about Tessa, she don’t babble on like most girls. She’s all right to talk to if she’s all I got. Mostly she likes to talk about Jesus and Bible stuff. I don’t mind – Jesus was a pretty cool dude and she knows a lot about him. I wasn’t sure I bought it all, but her eyes get even shinier when she’s talking bout him so I’d been wondering lately if it might all be true. She didn’t even pester me bout where we were headin that night, just told me how Jesus dying made her feel.

When we crossed Main and hung a left on Turner, and we saw Charlie and Rick hanging out in front of First Pres, she asked me, “We going to church?”

Her eyes lit up the night, and that’s when I had my first second thought about this plan and specially bout letting her tag along. I told her, “Sorta, but not really. Just come on if you’re coming.”

“They know you been going here?” She sounded shocked, and I reckon she had reason. That’s when I had my second second thought.

“Nah, I haven’t told no one. An you don’t need to neither,” I said.

Charlie held out his fist as we came up and I gave it a bump. He flicked his eyes at Tessa and asked me, “What’s SHE doin here?”

“Chill, Dude. She’s cool.” I told him, and asked, ‘You check it out?”

He grinned at Rick then at me. “Yah, Dude. Wide open.”

“Then let’s doooo it.” Rick started baying like a banshee and we had to hush him up and hustle around back before anyone saw us.

Sure nuff, the back door to the kitchen was unlocked and we all snuck in. Tessa I had to grab by the hand and tug on, but she came too. We started with the big blackboard in the fellowship hall, erasing the announcements. Charlie grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote in big letters, “Jesus…” He only got the first two letters of the next word down when Tessa grabbed my hand and drug me away.

“Come on, I want to do something.”

Well that got Charlie snickering and Rick hootin and a hollerin. “Go on you two – and have fuu-uun.” I turned my head to give them a look, and seeing those words so big…well I gotta say I wanted to throw up. My third second thought. I was happy to go on with Tessa.

She didn’t let go of my hand, or say a word, just drug me all the way to the sanctuary, then right up to the altar and dropped to her knees. She looked up at me with those big shiny eyes, cept now they were shiny with tears. “Pray with me?”

I figured, what the hay, I wasn’t too much into the dare anymore anyway. She still had hold of my hand, and I got on my knees beside her. I wasn’t sure what to do next so I just bowed my head and thought I’d wait till she was done, then we could go. I didn’t know she was planning on praying out loud.

I don’t remember much of what she said, but it was how she said it. I’ll tell ya, I never heard no one pray like that before. It was like she was really talking to someone. She said “Father” like God was really her daddy. She’d even stop ever once in a while like she was waiting for Him to answer. I started getting more comfortable, and that was weird to me.

Then she told Him she wanted to pray for Charlie and Rick and me, and I remember this part. She asked Him to open our hearts to His truth. And it hit me like a hammer. All those things we talked about, bout Jesus, and Him dying and why, and how He was really alive and He was really God. I felt like my heart was ripped open and real tears ran down my face. Before I knew it, I was praying. Me! And it wasn’t weird at all; matter of fact if felt real right.

That’s when the cops busted in and hauled us off. I’m thankful to the preacher for getting out of bed to come get us. My folks wouldn’t have believed my story, but he did. Course, Tessa was there to back me up. Us two tried to get Charlie and Rick to see the truth while we waited at the station for the preacher, but they just laughed. And for once I didn’t care, neither.

So, anyway, I guess that’s my testimony. That’s why I’m standing here in front of ya’ll in this big bathtub in a white nightgown today. Jesus is my Lord now.

Besides, Tessa dared me.


© 2008



Please visit my BFF  Joanne Sher at An Open Book.. She is our hostess with the mostest today. Pop on over and follow the links to more fab fiction. Feel free to join the Fiction Friday Fun by adding a link to your writing..




Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday, July 9

Friday Fiction: Turnabout


Thanks for stopping by on Fiction Friday! My offering today is one of my early pieces. It earned me 3rd place in Level 1 of the Faithwriters Writing Challenge back in 2006, bumping me from Beginners to Intermediates. I hope you enjoy!



Turnabout

"Strike! Oh yah!" Anna danced in jubilance when her neon orange bowling ball hit the sweet spot and sent all ten pins tumbling down. She returned high fives and grins from her cheering friends. Friday night out with "the girls" was just what Anna needed after the week she'd been through.

The shrill interruption of her beeper caused her spirit to nosedive. For the first time since being named attending at Mercy General, the sound of pager on her hip depressed Dr. Anna Cowart. She had lost three patients this week Three! And now her "services" were needed again. She reluctantly picked up her cell phone and dialed the hospital's number.


**


Anna pocketed her keys. Usually, the sight of her trusty Camry parked in the hospital lot behind the sign reading:  RESERVED FOR DR. ANNA COWART would be enough for pride and fulfillment to swell Anna, reinforcing her decision to sacrifice family, sleep, and nutrition in order to follow this path. Today, though, even the comforting sight of her hard-earned car in her well-deserved spot couldn't lift her out of this pit she had fallen into.

"I wonder whose life is depending on me?" After losing Mr. Nichols yesterday, Anna had all but decided to hang it up. Self-deprecation was triumphing over her desire to save lives, change lives. After the week she'd had, Mr. Nichols had been the last straw. She was ready to quit. "What good am I doing? I've made a huge mistake."

**


"Ma'am, my name is Dr. Cowart."

"You call me Miss Beth, now, ever'one does."

Anna melted at the warmth in her patient's quavering voice. Miss Elizabeth Murphy had had the misfortune of stepping out of the market just as a local boy whizzed by on his new skateboard. In addition to countless broken bones in her frail, aged, body, "Miss Beth's" skull had fractured when her head thumped the concrete sidewalk.

Anna's heart's burden wrestled with Miss Beth's infectious joy. She kept one ear tuned to the constant stream of jargon flowing from the nurses and interns as she examined Miss Beth.

" Do you know where you are?"

"Why I reckon I'm in a hospital. Least ways it shore sounds like one. Glad to know they put a female doctor in charge of me, I am.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Ain't bin called nothin' but Miss Beth for years now. But I'us christened Elizabeth Margaret Murphy, if'n that's what you mean." Miss Beth's green eyes twinkled with merriment, but Anna didn't like the unfocused stare and the dilated pupils.

This lady could have passed for Anna's own sweet grandmother, five years gone now. Concern seeped into her professional doctor voice. "You've been hurt badly. Is there anyone we should call?"

"Oh, no. Never did marry. I bin by myself for many a year, an' I done alright, upta now." She chuckled even as her voice wavered.

I can't do this any more. What good is it when death is the result? Why again? Why can't I save her? Anna life's dream lay shattered. Today she would turn in her resignation. Miss Beth would the last person to die at her hands.

"Dr. Cowart!"

Yanked back from her journey into herself, Anna focused on her team in the trauma room again. "One cc epi." Her eyes blazed with fervor; she resolved to make a difference somehow.

Miss Beth warbled, "Doc, forgive me, but you seem a might down an' distracted 'bout sumpthin'.

At death's door she senses that? How can she be worry about me right now? Anna administered the injection but still Miss Beth's vital signs continued to faltered..

Miss Beth's trembling voice began to fade. "I ain't got long, now. No, don't try an' patronize me. I kin tell. Listen up, this is important. There's sumpthin' I need ta tell you afore I leave this wrinkled ole body

"I bin blessed with a gift for readin' people. I kin tell when sumpthin's botherin' a person, an' if'n the Good Lord sees fit I kin figger out what. Now, I'm pretty shore you bothered at the idea a my passin' on yore watch."

Miss Beth could barely produce a hoarse whisper at this point. Anna leaned closer.

"Ever' day, circumstances is throwed at us. Sometimes you kin see 'em commin' atcha from a ways off. Those is things you kin try'n head off. But comes times when sumpthin' jus' jumps atcha unexpected like, an' all the good deeds an' good intentions in the world ain't gonna stave it off. Those things is God's will, and it ain't no use fightin' Him.

"I know you doin' yore best ta try an' save me, that's yore callin'. I'm shore you a fine doctor, but you gotta realize sumpthin'--you ain't God. If'n He's decided ta call me home, why then, I'm ready ta go."

Miss Beth wheezed one last contented breath, and as the monitor's beeping became a solid whine, Anna began to rethink her decision.


© 2006




PatteringsWe'd love you to join us for Friday Fiction!
Our host today is Patty Wysong, aka Peej, aka Peejers, at her wonderfully encouraging blog, Patterings. Pop on over and add a link to your own fiction, or just spend some quality
reading time.




Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Thursday, July 8

Word Filled Wednesday: Let My Teaching Fall Like Rain


Teaching 1st and 2nd grade Sunday School has been an unexpected blessing, like a German Chocolate Cake on my birthday when I thought no one remembered. And Vacation Bible School during the summer is the cold glass of milk to wash it down.

Halfway through my joyous, challenging week of Vacation Bible School this year, I turned my calendar to July and was brought to my knees by these words: "Let my teachings fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants."

How perfect!

It's too easy to get caught up in the theme, the decorations, the hype, the numbers, and the inevitable snags along the chaotic way. It's too easy to lose focus on what Bible School is all about.

I may frame this calendar page and hang it in the children's area at church so, long after I turn the calendar page to August and the next Scripture, I'll still be reminded to pray it each Sunday before I enter my classroom.

Be blessed,
Cat

Catrina Bradley
"

Friday, June 25

Friday Fiction: Expunging Muck

After many weeks of failed attempts, I managed to finish a story and enter the FaithWriters weekly writing challenge again. And once again, the talent was fierce. (That's my excuse for losing, and I'm sticking with it!)
Actually, if I'm honest with myself, maybe the muddled thoughts of my Main Character weren't as clear to the readers as they were to me. ;)

Be blessed,
Cat


---------------



EXPUNGING MUCK

A pebble of ink quivers under my trembling pen.

Blaire screams at me, and Peter curses. My hand jerks, smearing ink across the pure white page.

I grab my hair and pull. My shout rattles the windows. "I can't!"

Blaire's screams morph into a banshee's wail, and Peter demands I set him free.

My growled command for silence does no good.

The morass burying me in this miry pit has entrapped with me the two lives I birthed.

I tear a page from the back of my notebook and slash the blankness with angry blue strokes. Maybe if I can expunge some muck from my mood, the would-be lovers can be set free to embrace their fate. And maybe I'll be set free with them.


words Words WORDS!
Words all around me
Words surround me

Yet

my search for words
to articulate the thoughts
swirling like a cyclone
touching down for a moment
to deposit a modifier
or dangle a participle
in the peripheral vision
of my mind's eye
comes up dry



"GARBAGE." Peter's commanding voice shook me from my vain scribblings.

Blaire was no longer wailing, but her words warble with sobs. "That's not it."

"I'm just warming up...getting a flow going." I take a deep breath. It's just for me. No one has to see.

A shuddering line slowly carves out cursive letters, spilling my guts onto the paper.


Where am I?
I can't find me.
All I see
is a smiling visage
masquerading
as me.

The mirror says
that I am me
but mirrors lie;
they don't reveal
what lies beneath
the mortal seal.

Ebon sea and endless night
play hide and seek
with me and I
waste endless days
and sleepless nights
mulling over life
and why

and when

the sunshine went away

and where I might be hiding

and why.



A groan escapes my lungs and I'm torn between flinging my pen across the room and snapping it in two. Hideous excuse for poetry.

"Poetry schmoetry. You're avoiding the question."

My joy at hearing coherent words spoken by my female lead is increased exponentially by a hint of the melodious tinkle usually accompanying her voice. I search for Peter, but he's retreated to his room and shut me out. I know better than to pry when he disappears like that.

"Hello-o, anyone home? Forget the bad poetry. No one cares. You asked the right question, though; now answer it."

I was used to hearing Blaire talk to Peter this way, but rarely did she address me directly, let alone in such a forward manner.

"You mean, 'Why?'"

"Yeah. 'Why?' And speaking of Peter, he's too under-developed, you know."

I'm taken aback. "Under-developed? You mean scrawny? And who was speaking of Peter?"

"Speaking, thinking, same thing. We're all in here together. Except when you guys are in your rooms. I'm getting kind of tired of that, you know. I get lonely."

"You guys...you mean me and Peter?"

"Well, yah, duh. Who else is here? Wait--don't answer that. You don't know Peter at all, do you?"

"What do you mean?" I pick up my pen in a huff, tempted to conjure up an horrific natural disaster to befall her. "I created Peter."

"Yeah? Why is he in his room right now, ignoring us? Ignoring ME? Aren't I going to be the love of his life?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that yet."

"Which brings us back to 'why' and to Peter. Underdeveloped. Maybe it's time you got to know him. Knock on his door; demand he talk to you. And ask him why."

This might officially constitute the longest conversation I've ever had with one of my creations.

I'm not mad, of course. I know they live only in my head. I'm also sane enough to realize they speak only what is already known to me on some level, conscious or no.

"Exactly!" Blaire says. "So make Peter speak. He is you, you know. We all are."

"And you, Blaire? Why do I know you and not Peter?"

"I'm easy--I'm joy; I was created with light only touched by shadows.

"Peter was created from the dark that hides in you. That part of you is afraid of the light. He hides. If you can find him, get him to speak, you'll find the part of you you've hidden.

"Only then can you be set free.

"Come on, let's write more bad poetry. We've got some muck to expunge."

I pick up my pen.


© 2010


Our host for Fiction Friday this week is Laury's blog Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart Pop on over and add a link to your own fiction, or spend some time reading some wonderful writing.



Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday, June 11

Friday Fiction: The Storm

It's a stormy Friday afternoon here in mid-Georgia. Whenever it storms, I think of a certain stormy night from my childhood - one of my earliest memories. Today, I was motivated to "fictionalize" it.

I did my best to not embellish my memories, although I did add a little "flavor' to the opening. I wanted to write this as a children's story, but I don't think children would enjoy it much. Too scary. Maybe I'll use my "artistic license"  to make this a truly awesome piece of fiction someday. For now, though, I hope you enjoy "The Storm".











---------------



The Storm

KatieBelle was having a nightmare. A giant was coming to get her. He was screaming, and every time he took a step toward her, a loud BOOM shook her bed,

And the screams and BOOM's were getting closer together.

Usually, KatieBelle didn't like to be woken up. This time was different. When her mama shook her awake, she was glad. But the BOOMing and screaming didn't stop. And now there were bright flashes of light that lit up her whole room.

KatieBelle flung herself into her mama's chest. "It's a giant, Mama! A giant's coming!"

Friday, June 4

Friday Fiction: what good?

My Friday Fiction isn't fiction today. I occasionally dabble in a little poetry, and this free verse was my entry for the FaithWriters challenge "Actions Speak Louder Than Words."

Be blessed,
Cat

---------------

what good?

what good is Your Word
if the ink on Its pages
remains as still
as quiet
as dead
as the blackest night?

what good are Its lessons
if the Wisdom yearning to be unleashed
remains as constrained
as trapped
as caged
as a lion behind bars?

what good is Its Breath
if the Life It bestows
is neglected
starved
smothered
before It grows wings?

what good is It on the tongue
if the reciter understandeth not
doeth not
loveth not
liveth not…

so is heard not?


what good is the world
if they don’t hear
won’t hear
aren’t told,
nay, shown
who you are?

what good am I
if I go into the world
without You
without carrying Your Word
Your Love
Your Life
to them?

what good are my
hands
if they labor
contrary
to Your works?

what good are my
feet
if they walk
contrary
to Your way?

what good are You
to the world
if they see You not
witness You not
experience You not
in the world?


but how?

How can I
ever fill
those Footprints
that You ask,
nay, command
that I walk in?

How can I,
my heart,
so small,
be so filled
with Your love?

surely I will leak
leak You
overflow with You
spill You
for nothing of me
could contain
all that flows
from
You.


And that is good.


© 2008


We'd love you to join us for Friday Fiction! Our host today is Yvonne "Vonnie" Blake at My Back Door. Pop on over and add a link to your own fiction, or just read some fiction by the best writers I know.




Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Thursday, June 3

Word Filled Wednesday: I Get Misty

Living life is all about THIS moment. This very nanosecond in time.

The moment that has just past is behind you--gone. You can't get it back. You can't change it.

The moment yet to come isn't within your control. You have no need to worry about it. You'll be wasting your time if you obsess about it.





Take a deep breath.

All the way In....

All the way Out....


That's all you are guaranteed of. That's THIS moment.


What are you going to do with it?


Random thoughts while pondering whether I should play "just a few" games of Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook. Can you guess my decision? :-)
Cat






What is your life?
For you are a mist that appears
for a little time
and then vanishes.
~James 4:14~



Catrina Bradley
"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes." Psalm 18:24 (Msg)