“The Colonel’s Quarters”

WWRomancePromptThis is not my photo. It is not to be used for professional purposes. It serves only as a Romance Genre Writing Prompt.

A storm had raged the high seas the night before. King Renaldo knew that a supply boat from the mainland was on its way last night and the betrothed of his daughter, Princess Lana, was supposed to be on it. The King feared the worst for the boat and its crew as it had not reached dock by mid morning. He sent his Royal Ship out on a search and rescue mission. Unbeknownst to her father, the Princess set sail with it hiding in an inner cabin.

After 2 hours, the Royal Ship came upon what appeared to be parts of a boat. The Admiral, looking through his spyglass, yelled for the Royal Captain to slow down. The men lowered a rescue boat to explore the wreckage. There were no signs of life. They picked up floating crates and brought them back to be lifted up onto the ship. Suddenly, the Admiral started yelling and pointing to the other side of the ship. Princess Lana came running out as she heard “Man alive! Man alive!” She secretly prayed for it to be Prince Eduardo of Corleon.

“Princess Lana!” The Admiral bowed. The men on the boat paddled hard around the ship until they saw man hanging on for dear life onto a crate.

“Is it him? Is it Prince Eduardo?”

“I’m not sure, Princess. We all pray it is.” Pacing back and forth, she bit her nails while she waited on word from down below. She watched as the boat got closer and closer. The Admiral went running down the steps and yelled, “Princess Lana! It is he! Take him up to the Colonel’s quarters!” She ran to grab blankets from her room and ran into him. He was blue and shivering and his clothes were torn.

“Leave us and continue your search! There may be more survivors!” Princess Lana ordered. “Go make him some hot soup. He needs food and liquids.” She started removing his wet clothes. She took her body and snuggled up on him lying the blankets on top of them. He moaned. “Ssssh, my love.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her before passing out. Princess Lana force fed him the hot soup and laid beside him making sure that he got proper treatment. She’d hush him back to sleep when he stirred. The search lasted all night long and finally Prince Eduardo could no longer go back to sleep.

“I must go help,” he staggered as he stood up grabbing his coat.

“No, you’re too weak.”

“I have to go.”

Princess Lana placed her hands on his bare chest stepping in close, “I can’t risk losing you again. You can’t go, Eduardo.” Lustfully, he kissed her taking her breath away.

“Lana, you’re not going to lose me and they’re my mates. I have to go back out.” She ran her hands up and down his strong chest letting the hair tickle her fingers. His nipples were hard. She could not tell if it was from her touch or if he was still cold.

“You’re going to get sick,” she begged. “Please, stay.”

Eduardo sighed, “I have missed you so much and I suppose that the Admiral has everything under control.” Lana kissed his chest as she helped him remove his coat. He leaned back and locked the cabin’s door. He flipped her hair back behind her shoulders gnawing lightly up her collarbone into her neck. Her head leaned back causing her bosom to push against his skin. His hands came forward pushing down her shoulder strap. She lost her balance falling back onto the dresser knocking over the candle. They quickly blew it out before anything caught fire.

The Princess helped him by taking her arms out of the sleeves and exposing her breasts to him.

*Knock knock* “Princess?”

“Yes? Yes?” She called out. The doorknob turned. She quickly put her arms back in her dress as Prince Eduardo jumped into bed under the covers. Lana opened the door as she whispered, “Sorry. The Prince is sleeping.”

“Sorry, Princess. The Admiral would like you to know we’ve docked and the King demands your presence.”

“Yes. I’m coming now.” The Princess looked back at her soon to be husband. He nodded towards her knowing where her duty needed to be. Their passion would have to wait for another day.

#CampNaNoWriMoWinner2016 excerpt

I started out with a goal of 20,000 words of April’s CampNaNoWriMo. My intention was to write the 3rd inspirational-romance novelette for a book compilation that interacts with The Dreamers Trilogy. As I was writing, it developed into its own deep story. It will not be a part of the book compilation and will become my next book, once The Dreamer Trilogy is completed. “The Mirror” due out this summer is the 1st in the trilogy.

I wrote 20,116 words and it’s still going strong! It was untitled but the title has finally presented itself to me. A REASON FOR ME. Here is an excerpt from it:

“It’s really hard to pray ‘Thy will be done’ when one of the options is not what I want.”

“What option would that be?” I stared at her as she scolded me like a little child. Vocalizing it would make it real and I was not ready for that. “Elaine?”

“Th-that came out wrong.”

Natalie saw right through me, “No, it didn’t! Say it, Elaine. Say what option is not the one you want.”

“Forget it.”

“Say it!”

“No!”

“You’re afraid God’s will is marrying Jeff.”

“Drop it, Natalie. I’m getting married in a couple of weeks.”

Her voice softened, “Oh, Lainey! Call it off. It’s okay to call it off! The sooner the better!”

“Invitations are already sent out. We have everything.”

“You don’t have a dress.” Closing my eyes, I leaned against the deck railing watching Natasha run the yard.

“Cancel now and still get back at least part of all the deposits!”

I huffed, “You think it’s that easy?”

“Yes, I do! You call up the people and cancel.” I closed my eyes holding back tears. “Ah, the pride bug got ahold of you and you are falling.”

“What?”

“Pride cometh before the fall. You’re heading down a road that only leads to losing and in this situation that would mean what? You’ve already lost yourself. You can stop this.”

I sat on Natalie’s deck, overlooking the yard, “I know, Nat. I know you’re right, but I don’t want to lose Franco.”

She scooted her chair close to mine, resting her elbows on her knees with her eyes full of concern, “If he feels the way about you that I think he does, you’re not going to lose anything. Hopping a plane and going to South America is going to be a big mistake. It’s a bad idea, Elaine, to come out of a two year relationship, just minutes away from saying ‘I do’, to run into the arms of another man. You’ve lost part of yourself and it’s not fair to go running to someone else before you’ve found yourself. It’s especially not fair to Franco.You can’t give him all of the wonderful person that you are. You need to stand on your own two feet again. You need to find that before you can give yourself completely to another.” I knew she was right. I did not want to admit she was right.

“You know, I have never ended a relationship before?”

Natalie took my hand, “I know. You’ve either let the guy break up with you or the two of you just quit talking to each other and you never had to say anything.”

My whole body was shaking, “I’ve made a commitment, Nat.”

“You’ve not said ‘I do’.”

“What’s my reason?”

“The reason is you, Elaine.”

“Really? That’s what I’m going to say? ‘It’s not you, Jeff. It’s me’? That doesn’t sound fake at all.”

“It’s the truth, Elaine. You cannot give yourself to someone if you do not know what you’re giving. You’re living his life. Your life was nothing like this before you met. You act like everything is perfect with Jeff when reality is you are miserable. Why should you have to suffer? You think it’s going to change if you marry him? It’s not and if you think it is, you’re too delusional for help.” Again, I knew she was correct. She was speaking everything that I should be speaking but I could not.

“I don’t want to hurt Jeff.”

Natalie rolled her eyes, “But it’s okay to hurt yourself for the rest of your life because you think the truth will hurt him?” I stared up into the clear blue sky just listening to the breeze and not thinking of anything. It was easier this way. “You can’t say anything can you?”

“What’s left to say?”

“So, you’re going to go through with it and hope not to be miserable the rest of your life, aren’t you?”

“I’m going home. I have a lot to think about. It’s not as easy as you make it out to be.” She followed me into the house to grab my purse.

“For you, Elaine. The reason is you. It’s okay not to be perfect. It’s okay that you’ve made mistakes. It’s even okay that you’ve changed. However, it’s not okay to marry the wrong person because you don’t want to hurt him.” My sister’s words stung as they echoed in my head.

 

Alphabetical Advice

Here’s a list of my alphabetical advice to you all….

ALPHABETICAL ADVICE

 

A – Ask for help
B – Believe in Yourself
C – Control your tongue
D – Dream BIG!
E – Enjoy life
F – Forgive, especially yourself
G – Give unconditionally
H – Help the needy
I – Inspire greatness
J – Joy in everything
K – Keep your chin up
L – Listen to children
M – Manners Matter
N – Nurture your soul
O – Open your heart
P – Pray always
Q – Quiet your mind

R – Resist temptation
S – Smile at a stranger
T – Trust God
U – Understand others
V – Visualize peace
W – Waste not
X – eXperience LOVE
Y – Yearn for knowledge

Z – Zip your lips

 

“Flora”

SeniorDanceShe enjoyed coming to these Senior Dances once a month at the Community Center. Today, however, Flora just couldn’t get her act together. After dropping her plate of sweets and spilling her sherbet punch, she decided to give it a whirl on the dance floor. That proved just as useless. When everyone kicked forward, she kicked back. As every walked right, she went left. She wasn’t doing it on purpose, she was just having an off day or so she thought. Her sister, dressed in a pretty flowery sundress, noticing something was amiss walked her off the dance floor and sat her down at a nearby table.

 

“Are you okay, Flora?”

 

Flora looked a bit confused, “I think I just need a drink. It’s really hot in here.” Martha asked a friend at the next table to get Flora a drink.
“Here. Drink.” As Flora put the cup up to her mouth, her right hand went limp spilling punch all over her light pink shirt and pink pants. Martha knew at that moment, Flora was having a stroke.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

National Support Your Local Authors Day is coming up!

Several ways to support your local authors:

LIKE their author page on facebook   Mine is :  www.facebook.com/authorsusangibbons

PROMOTE their author pages or other social media pages.

Follow them on twitter, instagram, or any of their social media pages.

BUY their books either in print or ebook whether for yourself or as a gift to someone!

If you see a local author signing or library event, take 10 minutes out of your day to say an encouraging word!

Encourage friends to do the same!

 

“Geraldine” Historical Picture Prompt

PreHistoryPicturePrompt1

Up to 500 words of this picture. I do not own this picture. I have no rights to it. It serves only as a writing prompt.

Well….after 244 words, I got stuck….so, here’s what I wrote. I can honestly say that I’m learning a lot in the writing workshop!

 

Geraldine was never a girly-girl. She felt more at home in the company of the boys. We all figured it was because she was the only girl in a house full of brothers. She had two older brothers and three younger ones. She would rather go dig up worms instead of play house. Her mother had a hard time getting her to wear dresses, but it was either wear a dress or go naked. Geraldine insisted that everyone call her Gerri. She hated her name and liked that she could shorten it to sound like a boy’s name.

Growing up, she did not like to take care of her little brothers. She did not like to clean. She did not like to cook. She had read about Florence Nightingale and Amelia Earhart and wanted to do something spectacular like them. She had never tried anything daring in her life until one day when her oldest brother, Terrence, brought home a two wheeled bicycle. Oh, it was a shiny blue and it was pretty! They had never owned a bicycle before.

“Stay off, Geraldine!” Terrence warned her. “It’s for boys!” Gerri could not contain her excitement. She walked around it gentle pressing her fingers into the black, bumpy seat, gripping the handlebars and squeezing the rubber, and turning the pedals with one foot. She liked how it felt and she knew that she was one day going to ride it with or without Terrence’s permission.

“One Mistake” Western Writing Prompt

WesternPicPrompt1

I do not own this picture. I ave no rights to it. It serves as a writing prompt only.

 

“I just can’t believe it, Champ,” Kurt sighed to his horse as he watched the horizon turn from a pale pink to different shades of purple. He was in no hurry to return back to the ranch. He sat back reflecting on the past 24 hours in Phoenix. He had spent the past five years practicing and perfecting his roping to qualify for the American Rodeo Hogtie Team. It had been his dream since his dad took him to his first show. He was flawless in this craft and he knew he could win a spot.
“Kurt Tripoley”, the announcer called. Kurt straightened his hat as he grabbed his gloves from his back pocket carefully pulling them down strapping them tightly at his wrists. As he walked out into the arena, he took the rope into his hands shifting its weight back and forth. The roar of the crowd echoed in his ears. He truly loved the sound. He stepped into the center of the ring and nodded at the gatekeeper who pushed down a lever and a door flew open. A 320 pound hog came charging out. Kurt swung the lasso over his head, never taking his eye off of the animal. He turned slow circles over his head anticipating the pig’s closeness. Seconds mattered and he loved working under this pressure. His hand went up and back for a snatch as he stepped back when he suddenly tripped and fell. He had forgotten rule number one: check your flooring. He was so entranced with the sound of the audience that he forgot to check the ground around him before nodding to the gateman.
“One stupid mistake, Champ, lost me my dream. I just can’t believe it.”

“Detective Barnes” Mystery Prompt

Mysteryprompt

I do not own the picture above. It only serves as a writing prompt.
I am part of an online/fb writing group where we are studying different genres of writing. The week of 02/22-02/26 is Mystery Week. I did not realize that I kind of like this genre. I wrote on the picture above and it we were to write a story up to 1,000 words.
I couldn’t tell if a crime had been committed or not. A frantic call had come in the middle of night reading UNKNOWN on my phone. A woman, hoarse and panting heavily, “Detective Barnes, come quite! Please!”
Being awakened out of a dead sleep but suddenly being awake, I spoke, “What? Where? Who is this?”
“Please,” the voice said lowly, “come quite. 501 Snodgrass Lane. Hurry!” The phone clicked. I rubbed my face and jumped up. I quickly dressed, grabbing my badge and gun, I race out the door.
Rain. Why does it always rain when I get midnight calls? My gray 1971 Chevy Nova had seen better days, but she got me places. When it rained, the rear windshield leaked causing condensation to form creating almost no rear visibility. It made backing out of the driveway very difficult.
“501 Snodgrass Lane. 501 Snodgrass Lane,” I repeated to myself. It was a drug laden area. In fact, 501 was the number of a low income housing high rise. “Dammit!” I screamed as I pulled up to the building realizing that I had no apartment number. It seems as if the rain had short circuited the electricity to the building. I park in the fire land and grab my flashlight that I keep in the the glove box.
An eerie stillness has taken over as I open the double glass doors to the first floor lobby where the mailboxes are. I see nothing out of the ordinary. The elevators are not working, though. I find my way back to the stairs when my phone vibrates and an Unknown shows again.
“Which apartment?” I immediately yell into the phone.This time, laughter echoes through the phone. “Hello? Hello!?” The phone goes dead. “Shit!” I mutter under my breath. I continue up the stairwell, stopping at floor two. My phone again vibrates. Without looking, “What number?” Again, laughter reverberates before hanging up. I walk around floor two stopping at each door listening for voices. Nothing. I could swear someone is watching me because as I make it to the third floor platform Unknown shows up on my phone again. “Listen, you piece of shit,” I quietly yell into the phone.
“Me?” giggles the woman’s voice from the first call.
“What apartment?” “Oh, did I say 501 Snodgrass Lane? I meant 2902 Lin Street, Apartment 4.”
“What?” The phone dies as I realize that she just spoke my address.

“Altar of Hera” Fantasy Prompt

fantasyprompt

I do not own this picture. I have no rights to it. It serves only as a writing prompt.

Every year, all women around the country anticipate this moment. I, especially, have been waiting. I am getting quite old and my childbearing years are soon over. I have disappointed my husband for so long that I decided to make this journey. I must make this trek hoping for good news. Once a year, women who desire marriage and fertility travel to the altar of Hera at Mount Nativity to receive a blessing from Here, the goddess of women and marriage.
I have stopped on the dirt road to give my exhausted horse a drink. We have been walking almost nonstop for days. Dark clouds have been forming high above and I fear a storm approaching. Suddenly, a strong wind blows causing the dark blanket to slowly dissipate near the mountain top. An ivory symbol begins to present itself. The sun finds a hole in a cloud to beam down brilliantly on the summit. Snow white doves flutter up high above the clouds that are gliding away from both sides of the mountain where a pearly altar looms.
I panic, as I still have a small ways to go down the road and I am worn. I take the reigns of my horse and turn him around just as a loud roar echoes throughout the land. The alabaster dragon has come to life. I can hear the faint cheers of all the other women who have come for Here’s blessing. The dragon swoops and circles around the altar. Its scales glistening vibrant oceanic shades of silvers, blues, and mossy greens to land at the top of the shrine where it seems to be broken, but a walkway lowers down like a drawbridge. The broken ends open up. A bright light pervades the walkway and a small shadowy figure
appears.
I have traveled so far and so alone to miss this. I no longer find myself tired. I am mesmerized by the sight. The beast slowly sails and hovers until Goddess Hera has mounted. It swirls gracefully above the horde until it lands at the throne’s base. The crowd’s applause heightens as the goddess starts speaking. My weary legs cannot move fast. My horse is fighting me and just wants to sleep.
The audience begins chanting. I am moving as fast as I can trusting I will make it in time. I need her touch. I need her consecration to take away the heartache and wickedness that was bestowed upon me leaving me unable to give my husband an heir.
The dragon shrieks three times reverberating against the mountain before ascending high above. Goddess Hera has ascending back upon to the wondrous monster. My heart sinks. I stop and drop to the ground creating mud underneath my face. The earth trembles as Goddess Hera ascends back up into her altar. Another year barren and another year believing that my husband will not leave me.

“Courtland Manor”

HistoricalGenre500wrdprmpt
I do not own this picture. I have no rights to it.  It only serves as a writing prompt.
So, in my FB writing group, it’s Historical Genre week. The 3rd book in my trilogy touches a lot on this genre, so it’s opening my eyes to rewrites!
This prompt: Write 500 words or less on the picture above set in the past.
Today was a big day at the manor. The Courtland’s eldest, Helen, was getting married. It was all up to Fergus that the property looked perfect. Not a single leaf could be out of shape as part of the Royal Family would be represented. Mr. Courtland worked in Parliament to help restore the Monarchy and knew that he and Courtland Manor would be under scrutiny. He knew the only person he could trust to make it perfect was his lawn man, Fergus.
Fergus got into the lawn care business by accident. He got caught by Mr. Courtland picking flowers out of the flowerbed for his own wife. When questioned about it, he stated that he was bugged by the weeds growing. It was at that moment, Mr. Courtland invited Fergus to walk around his property to talk about the work that needed to be done. Fergus needed a job and gladly took on the work, even though he knew nothing about plants and trees.
“Good work, Fergus,” Mr. Courtland looked over the front of the estate with its perfectly trimmed trees and bushes. The lawn was neatly shaved and the mini pillars with planters were dusted. Fergus took great pride in his work, but would never admit that he really did not know exactly what he was doing. He was just thankful for his job.
“Thank you, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“No, Fergus. You may go. Guests will be arriving within the hour and you best not be here.”
Fergus bowed. He tried not to be disgruntled because he would not get any credit for the beauty of the property. It was just another day, another dollar, and no credit whatsoever, for the hired help.