Tooting my own horn...

Beastly Bear Fiction

Hi Folks!

Those that know me already know, those that don't will find out.

I'm not really one for blowing my own horn, never have been.

Probably stems from my school days where I was quite accomplished in Drama Club. I won several "best actor" awards in local and regional competitions and was duly proud. In discussing this with my extended family, I was later told that someone I was very fond of thought that I was very conceited about my successes.

I never spoke of them again.

Fast forward to this week.

I entered the Yeah Write weekly micro story challenge. This weeks prompt was "where can I get one of those?". You may not use the prompt in the body of the story or in the title, but you must convey the idea so that even someone that doesn't know the prompt would understand.

I lucked upon a pretty good idea I thought, going with a Depression-era story.

Lo and behold, I actually won this week by a single vote. Just eking by EagleAye and his "Curious Encounter" (he is really great, check out the link to his site). Only fair he took third last week with one more vote than me. Lol

My deepest thanks to any that voted for me, and a deeper thanks to those who took time out of their day to read all the entries and vote.

So this is my Horn blowing post! I still have tons of room to improve, (as not even half of the 36 voters thought I was one of the top 3) but this is encouraging. 

So, I will wear my badge proudly and display it here as well as my regular blog Den of the Beastly Bear. Stop by if you enjoy my writing, there I tell true life stories in what I hope are entertaining ways.

There, now you will hear no more about it!

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

New Hope

New Hope

"A Depression" Roosevelt calls it.

Neither work nor food, nor hope.

Hunger claws the soul like a drowning beast, scrambling for air.

Stoop-shouldered desperate men with hollow eyes, standing in line.

Wait, there is a man with soup...and bread!

"Hey, Buddy..."

Last Ride

Beastly Bear Fiction

Last Ride

The "Wolverine", we called Bill when he rode with us.
From Michigan, he was hirsute, big and strong.
He seemed indestructible.
Much too "larger than life" to die.
But now I'm one of six...
Walking him on this final journey.
Peace, Brother.

Here is a challenge taste...

Beastly Bear Fiction

Ok, here is the idea...
You are given a prompt.
Answer the question in exactly 42 words, don't rely on a word processor.
Use correct spelling and punctuation.
Do not use the prompt either in your title or story.
Your story must make sense to the reader, even if they don't know the question.

Think that's easy? Try one yourself...

Last week's question was: Why are you naked?

I did not enter last week, but my good blogging buddy Kathy at "The Giggling Truckers Wife Write" took second place. You may read her story here.

Kathy sometimes bounces ideas off me to see if things work/make sense. She's brilliant and rarely needs my help, as in this case I told her it was great! But in true perfectionist mode she didn't listen to me, tweaked it a little more and nearly won!!! Goes to show what I know.

It got me to thinking (again, I DO realize how scary that is), what would I have done with that?!?

So I wrote one myself, too late to enter...but not too

late for you to read...

Why Me?

First date with the man of my dreams and I'm late...

She thought stepping from the shower, a towel wrapped around her.

Doorbell. Through the peephole, relief...UPS.

Open the door, her cat shoots out! Chasing, the towel drops...door closes. Locked.

So, there you have a taste. Give it a try yourself, it's fun!

Be Well Folks, 
Beastly Bear

A New Beginning...

Beastly Bear Fiction

Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages...sit back and let me spin you a yarn.

This marks the debut of a new; well let's say an "addendum" blog, dealing specifically with my attempts to write fictionalized stories.

If you've read my main blog "Den of the Beastly Bear" you've read my true stories with only names, dates or locations changed to give those involved a modicum of anonymity. 

Some of these will be for weekly blogger challenges like the "micro-stories" challenge where you must tell the story in exactly 42 words.
Based on a question or picture supplied by the challenge. 

THAT is tougher than you'd think...

Sometimes it will just be something rattling around in my head that might come up from a conversation, a picture, a song who knows.

As a long time lover of reading and books, I've always toyed with the idea of writing fiction. Not just relating true stories in what I've hoped is an entertaining way.

I'll start with a short story I wrote which stemmed from helping a friend by proofreading her story for a challenge. Our stories really have nothing in common, save the picture from which they drew their inspiration. Amazing how two minds can see the same thing, yet go different places. This was also not a 42 word challenge.

Originally I called this "Sunset",  but I think a more apropos title may be "The End of Things." I hope you like it.

So without further adieu, here is...

 The End of Things

As Jane poured the last of the wine into her glass, she stared out at the setting sun and wiped away a tear. She thought of it as a metaphor for her relationship with Dave, who lay motionless entangled in the rumpled sheets where they'd just made love. For the very last time.

High school sweethearts, they'd been together through 25 years and two beautiful children, good years. That was over now, and never would be again. It was the affair.
An intern, barely out of college. Wide-eyed and so very impressed with him, he thought she didn't know.

So for their Anniversary, she'd rented an oceanfront hotel room, he loved the sea. A bottle of his favorite wine and they would make love one last time before she told him she knew. She loved him so much; it was the only way she could ever let him go.

So, when it was over and he lay back drowsy and spent in the damp tangled sheets. She got up to get them more wine; her purse was right there. 
"So," she asked over her shoulder. "were you thinking of her?"
 She reached inside.
"What..." he replied sleepily. "What are you talking about babe?"
"I said, Were you...thinking...of her???" She said slowly as she turned and leveled the revolver at his chest.
That woke him up.

The windows were open, and she could hear them coming now. 
A distant wail over the crash of waves. Everyone's windows were open...enjoying that gentle breeze that blew in off the ocean. She was sure everyone had heard.

She finished up the last of her wine and gently set the glass aside,
raised the gun to her temple and looking out on the very last sunset of her life.
She joined him in the next.



Well, there you have it.
I had posted this on my main blog, but it really doesn't belong there. So I created this one.

Stay tuned entering my first challenge Wednesday, Oct. 21st.!  

As always comments are appreciated if you like what you read tell me. If you think it sucks, tell me that too! I'm a big boy; you won't hurt my feelings!

Be Well Folks,
Beastly Bear