Update: I believe comments are fixed! The issue was caused by some work a third party is doing to speed up the site. (Improvements sometimes cause short-term problems and delays…kind of like road construction, haha.) I may be able to retrieve the missing comments. Hopefully!
Hey friends! There was some kind of technical glitch yesterday on the WIP Wednesday post, and comments stopped showing up. So annoying! I really hate that, especially when you take the time to put a 500-word-or-less excerpt together and post it! I believe the issue is universal, so don’t bother commenting for now.
However, I’m on the case! I have a call in to tech support to resolve it. If at all possible, I will get the comments on that post to show up and I will still respond to them.
Technology, am I right? I really wish it hadn’t happened, because I appreciate you all and I love seeing what you write!
Test comment here! Yes, comments are working now.
I actually wrote this last month, but it’s short so I thought I’d share since I haven’t posted here in a while. Unfortunately this story is true….
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I never realized that people have a unique scent; not until my husband passed away unexpectedly on a cold January day in 2019. But that night, still processing
the fact that he was gone, I found myself walking around our house in circles. The house, which seemed perfect (if not a little large) for the two of us, now seemed
enormous and I felt very small inside of it.
Slowly I walked up the stairs to our bedroom, completely unprepared to spend my first night alone in our bed with the shaved log bed frame. On his dresser lay the
shirt that he had worn the day before. It was a shirt that we had gotten six months earlier, when we took a monumental road trip from Washington State to
Saskatchewan to celebrate our 23rd wedding anniversary. The shirt was light blue with a yellow swirl on it, the design of the brewpub where we’d purchased it.
He’d worn it the night before and that morning (the last morning I’d ever see him), he folded it neatly on his dresser, the way he folded all of his clothing.
With trembling hands I picked up the shirt and brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply. I cannot describe the scent, but it filled me with a thousand memories and
even more wishes that he was there with me. I wish, oh how I wish I had wrapped that shirt in plastic and had not washed it so that I could remember that smell
for the rest of my life.
Some people say that they can feel the person they’ve lost standing in the room beside them, a gentle hand on their shoulder as comfort, but I have yet to
experience that. I hope I will have that experience someday. I will never forget my wonderful husband, but holding, touching or smelling something that he wore
makes me feel closer to him. I will never understand why he had to leave and I will always regret that he was taken so suddenly without warning that we never got
a chance to say goodbye, but he is always and forever in my heart.
Two weeks ago was our 25th wedding anniversary and I wondered what kind of trip we would have planned. It’s hard to think about what might have been but I
chose to spend the day at a beautiful rose garden. On that hot summer day it was the perfect place to be.
I could almost feel him sitting beside me, smiling.
Oh, Andrea, so sad and so beautiful. I love the last line.
Oh, Andrea. I am so sorry for your loss. What an emotional and beautifully-written piece. Thank you for sharing it.
Ah, girl … there are no words. Hugs and more hugs. I lost my husband in 2018. I pray the memories you hold in your heart bring healing and peace to your soul.
I’m not sure if I’m allowed to post more than one story, but here’s another really short one based on a picture prompt
He would never be able to get the image of her lying in the water out of his mind and he was overcome with grief. It was just an argument; one that sent her
fleeing into the wild. He searched for hours with no luck until he came to the river.
Tears stung his eyes as he pushed his way through the thick grass and into the water. As gently as possible, he picked her up, prepared to say goodbye forever.
But then something miraculous happened; she stirred in his arms. Heart racing, he carried her to the shore and lay her gently in the grass. He found himself gazing
at her with unimaginable love and he stroked her soft cheek.
“I’m so sorry. I love you so much. Please, don’t leave me.”
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around in confusion. But he didn’t give her a chance to speak, for his lips were on hers, kissing her passionately. Never
again would he take their love for granted.
The End
Given the issue with comments this month, Andrea, I don’t mind the two excerpts. 🙂 This is lovely. It really touched me.
Hi Bryn,
I’m a retired teacher and an amateur writer. I started writing fan fiction to fill my time and keep my mind active. I enjoy doing it, but find myself wanted to improve my writing. I would like to send you one of my rough drafts for your input.
Thank you,
Linda Prosser
Hi Linda! Fan fiction is so much fun! Sorry to say, between a full-time job, blogging, and working on my own stories, I can’t take this on. It sounds to me like you’re looking for a critique partner or a critique group, which is great! If you’re in a bigger city, you might be able to find this on meetup.com. There are a lot of Facebook groups for writers, too, where you might find a critique partner. Good luck! I hope you’re loving the writing.
Thank you, Bryn, for a second chance. I couldn’t remember what I posted on Wednesday, (I rely on saving the WIP posts) so I came across this today and decided to post it instead.
This is from Dragon Taught – Curse of the Sword.
Her brother, her Jerin, was getting married and she wanted to be included. She had spent her life being different, but she thought of her mother’s journal entry that said she would stand beside Tezak in love. She wanted to stand beside her family, too.
Mama said she could stand beside Father and still never waver from her calling. Was there even the slightest chance that Yadira could do the same?
She took advantage of a lull in conversation to ask, “Auntie, would you help me make a red dress for Niomi and Jerin’s wedding?”
Auntie choked.
Jerin looked at DuShain. “What did you feed her?”
DuShain held his hands up in denial.
Her father sat there with his mouth open, a mouth that still had bread in it.
Tears seeped out of Yadira’s eyes. “I don’t want anything fancy. I know my stitches aren’t very good, but I want to look nice for their wedding.”
She looked through tears at Niomi. Niomi didn’t return her gaze.
***
Two weeks later Yadira made her way to the stables. The last few nights she slept better than she had before Niomi came to the High Clan. Her meals had strengthened her, but she still wasn’t at her best. She hoped she had the strength to ride up to the mountain to Ishemia’s cave. She had to have some answers.
She saddled her horse and lifted her leg toward the stirrup. Dalleen’s dress blocked her leg swing.
DuShain’s chuckle startled her. “I wondered how you would get into the saddle.” He laughed again. “Sorry, Yadira. But it seems you have a dilemma here.”
“Oh, DuShain, quit it!” All she didn’t need was his teasing. “This is serious.”
His eyes twinkled. “I could lift you up.”
She gasped as she thought of how far she would have to pull up the dress to sit on her horse. “No, thank you.”
“What’s wrong with your riding skirt?”
She put her hands to her hips. “I washed it. It’s still wet.”
“I’ve got an extra pair of leggings.”
“DuShain, please! Men’s clothes don’t fit me. You know that.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I do. Just trying to be helpful.”
“Behave yourself.”
“I will if you do.”
She put her hand to her forehead to rub out the tension. “I can’t wait till my skirt dries. I have to talk to Ishemia. Maybe I can borrow Niomi’s cart.”
“She and Jerin just left. Going for a romantic ride to the cemetery. They wouldn’t let me go along.”
She reached up to stroke her horse’s mane, “So you’re stuck with me?”
He grinned and shrugged. “How about side saddle?”
“Are you kidding? I’d fall off before I left the courtyard.”
“Not if you had a strong arm around you.”
Jessie! I’m so glad you posted. 🙂 I always love your excerpts, and my heart went out to Yadira at this part: “I don’t want anything fancy. I know my stitches aren’t very good, but I want to look nice for their wedding.” I loved the humor in here too!
Bryn… I tried to post twice on September 1, but finally gave up. Am trying once more because I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your excerpt. I hope to see more of it, and I hope you finish it because I want to read the entire story.
The following little excerpt involves Megan, and the head ranger, Jim O’Reilly, whose staff Megan is housing at High Rock after a fire at their cabin.
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“This is an impressive garden. Wildflowers, right?”
Jim followed me into the garden and dropped to one knee to scrutinize the various plants.
“These little guys,” he continued, indicating a cluster of shooting stars with purple petals bent back from a deep yellow base, “are my favourites. Which are yours?”
When I didn’t answer, he looked up. “Too difficult to decide?” He turned back to the flowers. “How about this one?” He fingered a clump of pink pussytoes. “I’ve always liked them.”
“Actually,” I said, “my favourite is one I can’t transplant … Indian paintbrush. I tried a few times, but it didn’t take.”
“Well, you certainly have a fine collection here, even without your favourite. Where did you find them all?”
“Oh, here and there. I located a few on neighbouring ranches and some from catalogues.”
“What about this little gem?” He leaned forward, balancing himself on the outstretched fingertips of one hand while pointing with the other to a small plant bearing succulent, egg-shaped leaves and flowers of yellow and purple.
“Roseroot? That was a gift. The only place I’ve ever found it around here was in provincial parkland, a natural reserve or protected area. A friend gave it to me.”
He peered at me curiously over his shoulder, a half smile playing about his lips. “Lucky you. Most folks just dig them up.”
I returned his gaze with equanimity, “I admit that I’ve been tempted to stash a few particularly lovely specimens in my saddlebags, but it’s illegal in Kananaskis, is it not?”
“You’ve never done it?”
I eyed him warily. “No, I have not.”
A short silence followed and he lifted one thick eyebrow, his dark blue eyes cool and watchful. I had the unnerving feeling that he did not believe me and I stood abruptly, the subtle camaraderie I’d felt developing with him vanishing like an arcing eagle in the sky. He also rose and, after giving me an amused look, turned toward the front porch leaving me standing on the grass.
“Jim.” His first name slipped out involuntarily. He turned. I took a breath. “I meant what I said.” He considered me gravely and nodded, giving me a faint smile. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Thank you,” I said neutrally. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to discuss my wildflowers. Let’s go inside and I’ll brew some tea. Or would you rather have coffee?”
“Tea will be fine. That’s what you usually have, isn’t it?” He stood aside and I walked past him onto the porch.
“Yes, it is. How did you know?”
“Oh, I often pick up interesting bits of information while the staff is chatting.”
I’ll bet you do, I thought. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d already surmised what I intended to propose.