Val Muller

The Electronic Wordsmith

Flash Fiction: Synced In by Val Muller

January 14, 2016 No comments

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This week’s flash fiction comes to you from Val Muller, author of the young adult novel The Scarred Letter, a book dealing with bullying and truth in a world that lives a lie.

The prompt for this month: Opening sentence: “It’s still not clear what started it all.” Closing sentence: “What can be done to change that?”

Synced In

By Val Muller

It’s not clear what started it all. It may have been the Fitbit craze, the obsession over fitness-tracking watches and smartphone apps tracking movement, exercise, and calories. It may have been people’s use of GPS technology as a crutch, or the constant need to feel connected.

But now everyone at school was Synced In.

Except Charlie.

His parents were old school. Really old school. They’d home-schooled him until the tenth grade, at which point he needed the advanced courses offered at the local high school. When he first got there, he didn’t know how to log on to a computer, let alone use a mouse for that matter.

Not that many people were using a mouse anymore.

Now, the students held their fingers up to the sensor, and they were logged in, able to save their work, able to access countless databases. In gym class (they made Charlie take Gym with the freshmen), students logged into a computer terminal to track their pulses, their activity levels, and their caloric intakes for the day. Charlie was surprised there was no actual physical activity.

Charlie, who had not been Synced, flipped pages on an old-fashioned book with his old-fashioned finger and read about the benefits of cardiovascular work—without being asked to get up from his desk.

In fact, the teachers were all pretty lax compared to the books Charlie had read in preparation for life in public school. The teachers in the books were always sly and sneaky. They all seemed to have eyes in the back of their heads, to catch students sneaking around, and to have all kinds of clever ways of inspiring students into caring just a bit more about life.

Maybe books were art and life was life.

Or maybe life had just become too synced.

These teachers walked around with a small tablet attached to their belts the same way cops walked around with guns in the detective stories Charlie read as a kid. Attendance was taken as the students walked into the classroom—their Sync Chips scanned by each classroom’s infrared sensor. The teachers needed only to input Charlie’s presence manually, a task they did with the subtlest eye roll.

“Charlie, we need to get you Synced,” they would sigh.

They also had to manually enter his grades. With no finger sensor for him to log into the network, he could not complete the online courses the way the other students did. At first, he was met again with eye rolls. But after a while, his physics teacher seemed to enjoy the quaintness of a pen-and-paper activity. In the absence of immediate online feedback, Mr. Bloomton sat down with Charlie to review formulas and problem sets, to talk of theories and the best way to solve each assignment.

With the other kids, he simply checked their progress on his tablet, making sure the data fed correctly into his grading program.

Before long, Mr. Bloomton had spoken with Mr. Frierson, the public speaking teacher. The class couldn’t understand why Frierson abandoned the computer’s speech algorithm one day and asked the students to deliver an impromptu speech—actually standing in front of the class with everyone actually watching and not logged into their computers.

The next day, gym teachers around the school were perplexed at the irregular pulse rate and calorie readings reported from students’ devices, and they, too, spent time away from the automated programs. The students were especially tired that week, and parents came to visit—in person—with concerns about anomalous readings on their children’s devices.

With all the human interaction, teachers were more tired than usual, prompting calls from doctors’ offices calling for actual appointments rather than virtual ones. It made for a crazy week for most, but when Charlie’s parents asked him how he enjoyed being a public school student, he simply shrugged.

“A little different from what I expected at first, but now it seems to be a bit closer to normal. I probably would prefer to remain home schooled, but there is something unique about human interaction that I just can’t get at home. Besides, I need those upper-level science and match classes, so what can be done to change that?”

~*~

The Spot Writers–our members:

 RC Bonitz: rcbonitz.com

Val Muller: https://valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Tom Robson: Blog pending

 

flash fiction none

Flash Fiction: Graffiti by RC Bonitz

January 7, 2016 No comments

Welcome to the Spot Writers. Today’s contribution comes from RC Bonitz, author of critically reviewed, DANGEROUS DECISIONS, which was recently released. The prompt for this month: Opening sentence: “It’s still not clear what started it all.” Closing sentence: “What can be done to change that?”

GRAFFITI

by RC Bonitz

It’s still not clear what started it all. He didn’t understand the meaning of the graffiti on the plate glass window; it was to him unintelligible glop. Except for two things. The letters NRA and a 2, both clear, both with black diagonal slashes through them. He’d heard about those symbols before.

“Can I clean up the mess now, Detective?” the gun shop owner said in an exasperated voice.

“Yeah, we got pictures,” Detective Sloan said.

“Do you need to get samples of the paint they used?”

Sloan frowned. The painter would be back, no need. And these guys were smart enough to use common spray paint you could buy anywhere. “It’s probably some generic stuff you can buy in any of a hundred stores.”

The shop owner snorted. “Too much work to trace a little graffiti paint?”

Sloan stared at the man. The temptation to tell the guy he’d been marked was testing, but he controlled his tongue. He knew what was coming, and the guy would find out for himself soon enough. The gun control people had given up on legal ways to limit gun sales. Their tactic now was simple–take out the gun dealers. Or blow up their shops. It was poetic justice in a way. They’d walk into a guy’s shop, buy a gun, and then use it on him later when there were no cameras or witnesses around. Sloan knew of four gun shops in the state that had ceased to exist so far and no one had a suspect yet.

“What’s wrong?” the shop owner asked.

Sloan shook his head. “You better protect yourself. We can provide security for a while, but we can’t do it forever.”

The shop owner blanched. “You figure this is like what happened to Jimmy Carlson over in Weston?”

Sloan nodded.

The guy gave him a sick stare. “What can be done to change that?”

~*~

The Spot Writers–our members:

 

RC Bonitz: rcbonitz.com

Val Muller: https://valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Tom Robson

 

Blog pending

 

 

 

 

 

flash fiction, RC Bonitz none

Fantastic Friday: First-Day (Finite) Fun

January 1, 2016 2 comments

Happy New Year!

I’ve had several discussions with people who dislike holidays that celebrate or designate the passage of time—New Years, birthdays, even Labor Day denoting the end of summer. At times, I even agree. But as my dad always asks, would you rather the alternative?

So on New Year’s Day, let’s celebrate another year together and another year of possibilities.

Instead of dwelling on negatives, I prefer having a bit of fun, playing with the one time of year when we can say “I haven’t ____ all year” or “I haven’t ____ since last year” or “I’ve been ____ all year.”

For instance, just after midnight:

“I’ve been sitting on this couch all year. Time to get up.”

Or:

“I haven’t slept all year. Better get some shut-eye.”

Upon waking up on New Year’s Day:

“I’ve been sleeping most of the year away!” or “I haven’t eaten all year!”

Usable (hopefully) only for a limited time:

“I haven’t gone to the bathroom all year.”

And:

“I haven’t exercised all year. Time for the elliptical.”

Or:

“Those dirty dishes have been sitting in the sink since last year.”

Then there is fun you can have with loved ones. For instance:

“Have you showered today? No? Ewww, you haven’t showered all year!”

And if you’re a math geek:

“I’ve taken two showers so far this year. You’ve not taken any. That means the difference in our hygiene is so great, it’s an irrational number.”

Have dogs? New Year’s morning, you can feel like a bad pet owner:

“You poor puppies must be so hungry—I haven’t fed you all year!”

It goes on and on (though be careful, the jokes can get old!).

On a serious note, although we are the same people we were yesterday, New Years allows us the opportunity to revisit ourselves and make improvements. It’s never too late to revisit what you have or haven’t done all year—or decade—and make improvements.

Haven’t read a book all year? There’s always time to start.

It’s the middle of February and you still haven’t worked out? Why not start?

Perhaps the reason some of us don’t like to mark the passage of time is that it’s a reminder that time is finite—for us, anyway. We’re never promised a tomorrow, and that idea can be uncomfortable.

But if we look at the positive, having finite lives is a gift. It forces us to make the most of time—to recognize landmark holidays like New Years and revisit where we’ve come and where we’re going. It’s never too late to start exercising, or allow yourself that slice of chocolate cake, or tell someone how you really feel while you still can. And so as we have fun this New Years, be thankful for the limit of time and its power to help us strive.

Fantastic Friday, holiday, inspiration none

Flash Fiction: A Visit from St. Nicholas–and Others by Tom Robson

December 31, 2015 No comments

Welcome to the Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to use these words in a story or poem: star, pine bough, glass bulb, mistletoe.

A Visit from Saint Nicholas – and Others.

By Tom Robson

 

(With thanks and apologies to Clement Moore.)

 

“Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the condo,

The only ‘kid’ playing was my dad, on Nintendo.

The star sparkled brightly on the tree down below,

And hung right beside it was our mom’s mistletoe.

Concealed midst the pine boughs, so dense and so green

The white mistletoe berries could only be seen.

 

My pillowcase lay at the foot of the bunk.

I knew that, by morning, it would be full of ‘junk’.

My brother and sister lay in bed without sleeping,

From down in the kitchen they could hear mother weeping.

Her oven’s too small to fit her huge turkey.

And all she could serve to her kids was beef jerky.

 

Then out of the basement there came a loud curse.

I said to myself, “Now! What could be worse–

My mother upset or my dad in a rage?”

Then outside the window the sky came ablaze.

I jumped from my bunk to see what was alight,

But I didn’t believe when my eyes saw this sight.

A fire truck was coming. It’s lights were all flashing.

My kid brother and sister said “Cor! This is smashing!

Can we go out and see where the fire is, please?”

I said, “Are you crazy! Your fingers will freeze.

You’d have to dress up from your head to your toe.

Cos the temperature out there is thirty below.”

 

The fire truck stopped right outside our front door.

Out of the truck leaped brave firemen, four.

Quickly they started to unfurl their hoses.

The reason why suddenly came to our noses.

“Fire!” yelled my sister. “It’s here! This is fun!”

“Get down here, you kids! We’re on fire!” shouted mom.

 

The room filled with smoke. We dropped flat to the floor.

I reached out my hand but it touched a hot door.

“Too late to go that way! To the window! Let’s go!

Now both of you take a tight grip of my toe.”

Have you ever tried crawling, with two kids holding tight

To your toes, as you creep round a room, black as night?

As we got to the window we heard a loud CRASH!!!

So we finished our crawl in a shower of glass.

 

Then, through the smashed window, what should appear

But a frightening figure, all dressed in fire gear.

He was clad in thick clothes from his head to his toes

And out of his headpiece emerged a black hose.

His eyes stared out at us through a bulb made of glass

And he carried a fire-axe to clear a safe pass.

A voice! It was distant! He talked like Darth Veda.

It said, “Please don’t be frightened, kids. I’m here to save ya.”

 

He picked up little Becky, and then tiny Tim.

Passed them out to another masked man looking in.

I said, “Don’t you touch me! I can manage alone!”

But he picked me up like I was just skin and bone.

Put me over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold

And took me to safety out into the cold.

 

With us each in a blanket, (mom and dad too,)

We watched the flames flicker, red, yellow and blue.

Our house it was burning and naught could be done.

This was just one more game Mario Brothers had won.

Dad said that, when he entered the Castel of Doom,

The TV exploded, igniting the room.

“Oh! What’ll we do? And it’s Christmas as well!!!”

Cried our mom. Just then we heard it, clear as a church bell,

A jingle! And emerging from out of the smoke

Came this sled-like vehicle and this very odd bloke.

 

Eight reindeer that pulled him had this very odd cough.

My father said, “This is no joke! Now clear off!

Get back to Walmart. This is no place for you,

Unless you’re a volunteer fireman, too.”

The man in the red suit and singed, wispy beard,

(Which made him look more than a little bit weird,)

Said, “I’m not a fireman! Oh, dear me, no.

It’s me, Santa Claus! Cough! Cough! Cough! Ho Ho Ho!

 

“I’ve brought you this ticket. Your future is fine.

It’s the winner of Saturday’s 6/49.”

As mam and dad thanked him for the life-saving prize,

He fixed us three kids with his red, smoke filled eyes,

“You kids! Look for sacks marked with your three name tags.

An elf put one for you each on that sleigh filled with bags.”

 

We found them; and as we began to explore

What was in those three bags, we heard this loud roar.

Santa had taken, from out of his pocket,

And attached to his sleigh, a miniature space rocket.

“Emergency measure!” he yelled with elation.

“Save my reindeer who are suffering from smoke inhalation.

And Rudolph, my guide, has a nose black from fire.

That’s it for tonight, I’ll have to retire.”

With a last, ”Ho Ho Ho!” he headed for home,

Leaving all of the firemen, and our family, alone.

 

Now all the town’s children, including us three,

Did not find any Christmas gifts under the tree

At that Christmas time when our condo burnt down.

All the other children from all across town,

Could not work out (though they tried hard to guess,)

Why that Christmas their gifts came by Courier Express.

-Tom Robson. (Original version written in 1992 for his grade six students. Revised December, 2015)

~*~

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

RC Bonitz: http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller: https://valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Tom Robson: website in progress

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Book Review: Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

December 28, 2015 No comments

For various reasons, I was not going to read this book. But then my dad bought a copy, read it, and wanted me to read it to see what I thought of it.

First: To Kill a Mockingbird. I enjoyed the book immensely. It a favorite “school book” of my childhood (in other words, a book we were “forced” to read that I actually enjoyed). I did a presentation for Birmingham Schools on how to integrate elements of the movie version into lesson plans that encourage critical thinking. I did not want to read the “newly-discovered manuscript” lest my view of the original work become compromised. What I like about the original is that it stands on its own, and it’s concise the way classics are concise. It carries a strong theme, and the characterization and other plot elements work consistently toward that end. It’s concise, but one could read it again and again and discover new things.

As I began reading Go Set a Watchman, my opinion (on not having wanted to read it) did not change much. The novel seemed to meander a bit for me. I didn’t start getting interested until around page 75 (out of nearly 300), and it wasn’t until about page 125 that I actually sort of felt like reading it. Luckily, I was reading it in the two days before Christmas (so I could return it to my dad), so I was on a timeline to get it finished.

Part of the problem was point of view. The point of view seemed to change randomly at times. Just when I would start to settle into one perspective, the POV would seem to jump. I understand this is an artistic choice, but it was odd to me. Then there were lines that changed to first-person present tense—obviously to show what Jean Louise (Scout) was thinking, but the transitions were awkward, as they happened mid-paragraph. I suppose some books change to italics to denote a character’s internal thoughts. Maybe that would have helped allow me to read more quickly.

(In fact, talking to someone who had listened to the audio book version after having read the book noted something similar: when the actress read certain lines, it became apparent that they were internal thoughts.)

Despite my initial tepid reception, I did enjoy Lee’s language—great word choice, imagery, and figurative language. I enjoyed finding these gems scattered throughout. But then, a freedom theme and a theme of limited government appeared, and I finished the rest of the book in one afternoon.

The rest of this review will contain some spoilers, beginning with a quick synopsis.

(Spoilers follow)

The premise: The book takes place when Jean Louise Finch (Scout) is 26 years old. She has been living in New York City and returns to her Southern hometown of Maycomb (the setting of To Kill a Mockingbird). There, she discovers that her father is aging, and life is not what she remembered it.

Without giving too many spoilers, Jean Louise has to reconcile her life in New York City with the tension she discovers in her hometown—even among family—regarding Civil Rights and racism. Even her beloved Cal (Calpurnia, her childhood nanny) no longer treats her as a friend because of racial tensions. Specifically, she attends a community improvement meeting in which her father introduces a blatant racist to be the guest speaker. Jean Louise is further irked by the fact that her boyfriend—someone she’s seriously considering marrying—is also at the meeting (as are most of the men she had grown up respecting).

I understand that this manuscript was rejected in favor of a rewritten story—what became To Kill a Mockingbird. I much prefer the original, though it was interesting to see how all the characters seem to mesh together with the perspective of the original in mind. I wonder if Harper Lee kept these characters’ futures in mind as she wrote the original—or if she scrapped some of what she had mentally planned in favor of a simpler, more clean message in the original classic. But this book did strike certain chords with me in terms of my love for freedom, limited government, and individual responsibility.

In some ways, parts of the complexity of the characters reminded me of something Ayn Rand would write (only much, much, much shorter!). For instance, when Jean Louise couldn’t reconcile all those people she saw at the racist meeting, I kept hearing Francisco’s voice from Atlas Shrugged say, “Check your premises.” Many of the people Jean Louise had trouble “getting” were patient with her, in some ways allowing her to figure out the discrepancies for herself. Here is Atticus Finch, practically a god to her, and he is attending a meeting led by a racist. What gives? It’s up to Jean Louise to figure it out.

While she’s working through her father’s fallibility, she learns that his racism (though it exists and is arguably a side-effect of the time period) was at first overstated, and he is trying to keep his version of government alive.

It was here—when the characters began talking about an overreach of government (the book was written in the 1950s) that the book truly captured my interest. Atticus (and others) emphasized that people should be responsible in voting and in acting—and that citizenship should in some ways be earned before being able to vote. I can’t help but agree: otherwise, what’s to stop people from voting their own benefits? Many characters had problems with the NAACP in the novel and the way it was using the federal government to strong-arm society into simply doing things without building the supporting structures needed to support a new way of life.

This is, naturally, a complicated issue, and Jean Louise does not see the solution as “clear-cut” the way her father does. She does have a problem with the way the federal government is dictating people’s lives, but she also sees the good in the Civil Rights laws that are being passed. I could not help but consider my own libertarian-leaning views that believe it’s better to leave people free to make their own decisions—change will thus happen naturally and in a free-market with no coercion or spite involved.

My absolute favorite passage, and what made the book worth reading for me, is the discussion that Jean Louise starts with her uncle on page 197. She is concerned about what appears to be rampant racism going on in her hometown, and her uncle (albeit, in a roundabout way at first) explains that the Civil War and the emerging resistance to Civil Rights is actually about identity—and he begins talking about how the government is starting to help those who are most dependent on it—essentially buying loyalty. Uncle Jack says, “I’m a healthy old man with a constitutional mistrust of paternalism and government in large doses..the only thing I’m afraid of about this country is that its government will someday become so monstrous that the smallest person in it will be trampled underfoot” (198). I shivered, thinking of things like the NSA and the TSA and wondering what recourse we would actually have in our broken system if the government actually did want to act against its citizens.

Later, Jean Louise and her father discuss the Supreme Court case and Jean Louise’s perception of the importance of the Tenth Amendment (the one limiting the powers of the federal government and relegating them to the states and the people). Here, Jean Louise turns into the Scout I remember from To Kill a Mockingbird returns, speaking to my heart:

“I don’t know much about government and economics… but I do know that the Federal Government to me, to one small citizen, is mostly dreary hallways and waiting around. The more we have, the longer we wait and the tireder we get.. instead of going about [fixing the system] through Congress and the state legislature like we should, when we tried to do right we just made it easier for them to set up more hallways and more waiting.” (240).

Atticus responds with the fiery vigor I expected of him the whole time: “You mean because the Court said it we must take it? No ma’am. I don’t see it that way. If you think I for one citizen am going to take it lying down, you’re quite wrong. As you say, Jean Louise, there’s only one thing higher than the Court in this country, and that’s the Constitution.” (241).

And there is the crux of the paradox. Jean Louise understands that racial equality is a great cause, but she is bothered by the fact that the federal government is overreaching its powers and imposing its will on the people. And in the name of a legitimately great cause, the people have fed the monster that becomes the government. Bureaucracy has a habit of outgrowing itself (in The Grapes of Wrath, Steinbeck called it a “monster” that man could no longer control), and during the time of Civil Rights in the South, Harper Lee visits the issue of balancing limited government and moral rights.

In the end, this is why Jean Louise is asked to stay in Maycomb rather than return to New York. She is intelligent enough and conflicted enough to see the need for both equality and limited government—and understand the difficulty in balancing the two in a natural way that isn’t divisive.

In many ways, we seem still to be battling this issue. With countless pages of legislation that no one will ever read, you could be inadvertently breaking a law right now—right this minute—and not even know it. It’s probably true that said law has (or had, at one time) a morally-righteous purpose for being written. But that’s a moot point—when something is imposed on you, you’ll be more prone to resent it and resist it the same way the people of Maycomb resisted change during the time of Civil Rights.

book reviews none

Fantastic Friday: Happy Christmas!

December 25, 2015 No comments

Happy Christmas!

This year, so many people are complaining about the difficulty of getting into the Christmas spirit when the weather is hovering around 70 degrees across the East Coast.

I don’t share that problem. I have no issues wearing sandals and having open windows while the Christmas tree is glowing against the backdrop of Christmas music blaring on the radio.

Nonetheless, I still enjoy spending Christmas Eve (and Christmas night, if I’m able to stay awake) sitting on the couch and watching Christmas movies. Regardless of the weather, they always help me feel a bit more Christmassy. (Though I would argue that my definition of “Christmassy” is probably not typical!)

So today, I thought I’d share my top five Christmas movies (in no particular order).

  1. A Christmas Story. This movie is usually on for 24 hours straight on Christmas Eve, and I watched it one year while home with the flu for almost all 24. The movie has a classic feel that makes it seem older than it actually is. I like how the humor mixes in with typical holiday spirit. I also feel that the filmmaker worked hard to keep a literary feel to the narrator and make effective use of each scene. If you’ve never seen this film, you’ll probably appreciate the nostalgia and creativity as we see the world through the eyes of a young boy. I enjoy that the family portrayed is far from perfect.
  2. How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the cartoon version—yes, I know it’s not technically long enough to be considered an actual movie). I don’t know how many times I watched this on TV over the years, and now I have it on DVD. It almost seems like a cliché now, but it’s definitely found its place in the cannon of Christmas videos. I’m sure I don’t need to summarize about the Grinch and his nemeses, but there’s something uplifting about the people of Who-ville coming together and singing on Christmas morning even after the Grinch has stolen their things. It always made me think about what was truly important on Christmas rather than focus on all the gifts that were so exciting as a kid.
  3. Gremlins. As a kid, my sister and I were obsessed with Gizmo. We loved how cute he was, and we liked the forbidden nature of the rules: avoid exposing him to bright light, don’t get him wet, and don’t feed him after midnight. There’s something magical about those rules, and despite the bloody mess that follows the main characters, I love worlds in which magic simply makes sense. Re-watching the film this year, I forgot how violent some of the scenes are (for instance, the protagonist’s mother at one point throws a gremlin into a blender!). Even so, the film is not blatantly bloody, and the gremlins inject enough humor into the narrative to keep it relatively light. And once again, the family is far from functional, and the Christmas is far from stereotypical.
  4. The Nightmare Before Christmas. I loved this movie ever since I saw it in the theatre. It makes use of my favorite holiday, Halloween, while still blending in a little bit of that “Christmas magic” (without going over-the-top). The songs are instant classics, and the creepy nature of Halloween Town never truly leaves the story, even when we’re fully immersed in the Christmas aspects of it. As an example—there is a scene in which the US military tries to shoot down protagonist Jack as he rides through the sky pretending to be Santa. The film is so imaginative that it’s as if my childhood musings were transferred right to the screen. I usually watch this one between Halloween and Christmas.
  5. Krampus. This is a new one this year. I saw it in the theatre a couple of weeks ago. It’s rated PG-13, but it definitely fits into the horror genre (albeit mild horror). The premise: Krampus is an old legend about a magical creature similar to Santa, only opposite—in that he seeks out naughty children and punishes them, with brutal and deadly force. What I enjoyed about this movie is that it didn’t take itself too seriously. There were moments of humor in it despite the grim nature of the narrative. It’s definitely a movie to avoid if you like those classic Hallmark-style films; but for me, I enjoyed the fact that the movie acknowledges that Christmas is not immune to nightmares. The DVD is already on my Christmas wish list for next year.

Regardless of your preference of film or video, I above all am thankful for the resources, security, and time to be able to enjoy at least one Christmas movie each year on Christmas Eve. There’s a lot to be thankful for in life, and not many of those reasons fit under the tree.

"But *I* fit under the tree!"

“But *I* fit under the tree!”

Wishing you a Happy Christmas and a Healthy, Happy New Year!

Fantastic Friday, holiday none

Flash Fiction: The Christmas Wreath by Cathy MacKenzie

December 24, 2015 No comments

Welcome to the Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to use these words in a story or poem: star, pine bough, glass bulb, mistletoe. (There is one more word we must use, but Cathy will reveal that mystery at the end of the story.) This week’s contribution, “The Christmas Wreath,” comes from Cathy MacKenzie.

Just in time for Christmas, check out Cathy’s new publications: Her children’s picture book, BAD, BAD GRANNY, and Volume 4 of the “Creepy Christmas” series of books, CREEPY CHEERY CHRISTMAS, available on Amazon (print and e-book) and Smashwords (e-book).

***

The Christmas Wreath

by Cathy MacKenzie

 

Ellie skipped along the path and came across her mother. “What are you doing, Mum?”

“I’m making a Christmas wreath. You arrived just in time.”

“Those are such pretty ornaments. I love the glass bulbs, so colourful. But green is my favourite, and you don’t have any green.”

“Green’s my favourite, too, but green bulbs aren’t as striking on pine boughs. These reds and whites will be beautiful, especially when the light hits them. I’m lucky I was able to scavenge these.” Mother examined the pile of bulbs. “Do you think they’re too big?”

Ellie scanned the bulbs and the pile of fresh boughs. “The pine branches are big, too. It’s all in the proportion, isn’t it?”

“I do believe you’re right. Can you help me lift them? If you take one end, I’ll take the other.”

Ellie and her mother grasped one of the boughs. “One, two, three—heave,” Mother said.

Mother and Ellie managed to move the boughs onto the makeshift table.

“I need to shape the wire into a circle. Hold here.”

With Ellie’s help, Mother formed the wire into a large circle. Together they wove boughs around and around the wire.

Ellie pointed at some loose greens. “What’s this?”

“That’s mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe?”

Mother smiled. “It’s a kissing plant. I’m going to drag your father under it and kiss him to death.”

Ellie gasped. “To death?”

Mother laughed. “Not literally. I wouldn’t do that.”

She examined the half-finished wreath and sighed. “This is going to be big, isn’t it? Your father will have to help hang it.”

Ellie and her mother finished the wreath, which did indeed turn out larger than Mother had planned, certainly the largest wreath Ellie had ever seen.

When Father arrived home, he said he’d round up several friends to help. “You outdid yourself,” he said.

Mother blushed and bowed.

Father left, soon returning with three friends. Carefully, they managed to transport the wreath to where Mother wanted it. “There,” she pointed. “Hang it in the centre. And make sure the bow is even and the ribbons hang straight.”

The four males grunted and groaned but hung the wreath as Mother had instructed.

After Father’s friends left, Father, Mother, and Ellie gazed at the wreath positioned perfectly on the trunk of a large oak tree. The sprig of mistletoe dangled from the centre of the crisp, red bow. The moon smiled upon the bulbs, making them glisten and glow like electric lights. A lone star twinkled in the distance.

“Is that the star of Bethlehem?” Ellie asked. No one answered. Mother had already grasped Father’s hand and was leading him closer to the tree.

Ellie averted her eyes while they kissed. Not wanting to wish her life away, she’d only ever dreamt of a fellow elf to love. Her time would come soon enough.

She glanced back at her parents, who had broken away from their embrace.

“Merry Christmas!” Ellie shouted. “And a Happy New Year!”

***

***(Have you guessed the mystery word? Scroll to the bottom.)***

***

 

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

RC Bonitz: http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller: https://valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Tom Robson: website in progress

 

ELF!!

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Fantastic Friday: First Library

December 18, 2015 3 comments

I was honored last week to attend the holiday party/December meeting of my local writers’ group, where I was surprised with a basket of books for the Little One. Each member of the group brought a children’s book to share with me, and as the note said, establish the baby’s first library.

"Starting Baby E on her first library!"

“Starting Baby E on her first library!”

I’ll admit that the nursery was looking a bit sparse until then. There’s just something about a basket of books that makes a room feel lived-in and inviting.

A grateful thank-you goes out to all my writer friends. I look forward to instilling a love of reading in a new human being come February.

Not sure what story I'm telling, but I'm telling something!

Not sure what story I’m telling, but I’m telling something!

To end on a humorous note, perhaps the most entertaining book gift this week came from a colleague in response to my comment that the Little One was being especially squirmy at night, awakening me in the wee hours and making for long days. She told me I could start reading it to my belly to see if it puts the Little One to sleep–and she even gave me her own personal copy 🙂

Yes, this is a real book. If you search YouTube, you can actually find Samuel L. Jackson reading it!

Yes, this is a real book. If you search YouTube, you can actually find Samuel L. Jackson reading it!

Baby book photos courtesy of author Sandra Stein. Check out her books on her Amazon page!

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Flash Fiction: The Elf Who Taught Kindergarten

December 17, 2015 No comments

Welcome to the Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to use these words in a story or poem: star, pine bough, glass bulb, mistletoe. This week’s tale comes from Val Muller, author of the Corgi Capers kidlit mystery series and the YA reboot The Scarred Letter.

The Elf Who Taught Kindergarten

By Val Muller

We’ve all heard the story of the elf who wants to be a dentist, and surely there’s nothing worse than being stuck in the wrong profession. But have you heard the tale of the elf who was stuck teaching kindergarten? You haven’t? Well then pull up a mug of hot chocolate—extra marshmallows and candy cane stirrer—and get ready!

Graduating from North Pole School,

Alice the Elf was sure no fool.

She sought her counsellor’s sage advice

For what career might just suffice.

 

“You’re born to teach,” the counsellor said.

Alice frowned and scratched her head.

“Not sew or build some children’s toys,

For all the good little girls and boys?

 

“Isn’t that what we were trained for?”

But the counsellor simply showed her the door:

“Go teach the young ones, Alice Elf,

And see how rewarding it can be for yourself.”

 

So Alice applied to Public School

And passed her Praxis and learned the rules.

She was hired in no time at all

To a Kindergarten classroom, starting that fall.

 

She did okay the first two months,

But her tired eyes gave her a hunch

Of just how tough the year would be.

She missed the snow, the toys, the trees…

 

So she decked her class in mistletoe,

Electric lights, and fresh pine boughs.

She hung glass bulbs, a glowing star—

The brightest room in the school, by far.

 

The kids all swooned in such delight

To see Alice Elf’s magic lights.

They learned their lessons with captive glee

Under the twinkling lights of the tree.

 

But then the principal came for a check.

She hemmed and hawed and clawed her neck.

Her eyes flashed hard at Alice’s blunder.

“You can’t have holiday décor in October!”

 

Poor Alice’s lips trembled as eyes teared.

The children cried in saddened fear.

They liked their Christmas kingdom bright

Like guiding star in dark of night.

 

The principal an exception made

But to young Alice the advice she gave:

“Take down the décor in January, stat!”

Alice nodded, and that was that.

 

January came, the décor stayed lit.

The principal had another fit.

“Take it down, or I’ll do it myself—

What do you think: you’re Santa’s elf?”

 

Alice nodded, and the principal left,

Leaving Alice sadly bereft.

But she remembered snow and Northern pole

And she left the lights up for another go.

 

In February, the school was decked

In red, pink hearts and all the rest.

In March the clovers and pots of gold

Captivated children’s souls.

 

But not so in young Alice’s room.

Her Christmas décor seemed a bit like gloom.

“How come the decorations never change?”

Asked her students (the room did look deranged

 

To display stars and snow and lights

When other rooms wore flowers springy and bright).

Alice shrugged: “Christmas is best.

With decorations all year, we’ve all been blessed—

 

“At least, that’s how it is at the North Pole,

With 24/7 spent under feet of snow.”

At the school year’s end, each class was shaded

In suns and sand, dreams of vacation…

 

Except for Alice’s room down the hall,

Which still showed angels, shiny glass balls.

And the principal arrived with a bright pink slip

And a box for Alice—to take a trip

 

To the North Pole or the next public school.

“Christmas all year simply breaks the rule.

You’re no longer welcome here,

Alice the teacher, my misguided dear.”

 

A call to the counsellor gave Alice bad news:

The North Pole didn’t have openings at any schools.

So she applied to the district right down the street,

And they were eager for teachers to meet and to greet,

 

And they hired young Alice right on the spot

And smiled when they saw the decorations in her box.

“Christmas already, and only in June?”

She smiled at them and said, “It’s never too soon!”

 

And so they showed her the classroom she’d take in the fall,

And she set it all up with lights and glass balls,

And it twinkled in June’s bright, hot sun.

And she smiled to think of next year’s Christmas fun.

 

~*~

 

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

RC Bonitz: http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller: https://valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Tom Robson: website in progress

 

ELF!!

 

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Book Review: Once Upon a River by Bonnie Jo Campbell

December 7, 2015 No comments

A coworker loaned me this coming-of-age story, telling me it is similar to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, only it’s a young woman (slightly older than Huck) in slightly more modern times. It was an apt description. Margo lives in rural Michigan, and the book takes place in the 1970s. Whereas Twain wove humor as a major force in his novel, Campbell uses sexuality. Because I was in a weird place in my life when I started reading it, I picked it up this summer and then forgot about it; I found it and finished reading it a few days ago.

It wasn’t a slow read; I just felt that the plot meandered a bit, with Margo drifting from one place to another without much in the way of parental influence (her dad was killed; her mother abandoned her at her most vulnerable). Still, that’s what happens in Huck Finn: as in any coming-of-age tale, the protagonist must find her way without the guidance of an overpowering and responsible adult. Once I realized that this is a character-driven, not plot-driven, novel, I read it fairly quickly. But being honest, I didn’t get into the book until I was more than halfway done. I felt parts of it prior to that were intriguing, but I just didn’t “get” what was happening yet and was wondering if the plot was going anywhere.

This book is for a slightly older crowd than Twain’s classic. There is rape, sex, and shooting—and the consequences of the above. Margo aspires to be Annie Oakley, making a living off her trick shooting while living off the land. She seems ill-equipped for the modern world. For instance, when she does find her mother living in a relatively suburban neighborhood, she spends the night. But unable to sleep indoors for so long (like Huck), she sneaks out to the backyard to build a fire, prompting an alarmed neighbor to call her mother to report a vagabond living in the back yard.

Throughout the novel, her tenacity to stick to the old ways is both an asset and a liability. Many find her attractive; some call her a river princess, or nicknames to that effect. I did enjoy the way she sticks to the old ways, seeking people who live in unconventional ways. I often ponder the numerous ways I—and most people—give in to the predominant lifestyle simply because it’s what is accepted. How many of us would attempt today to live off the land or live off the grid?

Margo’s personality and decisions are reminiscent of an earlier America, the America Huck Finn was trying to keep a hold on—one full of much less bureaucracy and fewer rules, but one that was slipping away from Huck even during the 1800s. A few times, I got annoyed at Margo, wondering why she couldn’t just accept conventional help and try to live the way society wanted her to live. But I’ll admit, as I was reading the book, I began to get mad at myself for thinking that. Here is a strong character who wants to live her way on her terms. How much different would the world be if we all had even just a hint of her gumption?

Though this is a coming-of-age novel, I am not sure I would have fully appreciated it while I was an adolescent. I needed the perspective of a (sometimes) fully-grown adult to appreciate the way that all the characters, adults and youth alike, make their own decisions based on their life experiences and assumptions. I would be interested to learn how male readers reacted to the book. So many of the men Margo encounters, or has relationships with, seem like they are just placed in the book as a step to help Margo grow and are not necessarily admirable role models (though neither are the women!).

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