welcome

welcome readers & writers! in this cyber space please find: + a photo writing prompt + a place to post your creative writing response (poem, memoir, short story or the like) to the prompt + a community of readers and fellow writers excited to read your writing + morsels of genuine fiction, poetry & creative non-fiction as the blog is updated. share a response as often as you'd like. everyday discoveries from my life, captured on film, will serve as prompts. this is not a place where we will critique one another's work; however, words of encouragement or praise for writers who share their work are most welcome. writers, share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo by clicking on comments; word count is flexible. cheers! demery

Showing posts with label singed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label singed. Show all posts

Thursday, September 16, 2010

singed


welcome readers & writers!  
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writers, i'm your biggest fan! come write with me :)
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Aemon stretched out on his bunk at the end of the night. Since he was the new guy, he still had to do all the cooking. How long that would last we wasn't sure. The guys dug his homemade sloppy joes - good thing he'd called his ma for the recipe. And, even though he had to cook, they all did the dishes, which was cool. That's how it went. Today was a good day. Not quiet, exactly, because they'd had a kindergarten class through to visit. Even after a week he knew enough to be glad for a day without any calls. It could get boring, but that also meant no homes were burning to the ground. No assistance was needed at the scene of a godawful wreck. Kindergarteners were awesome. He and a couple of other guys had taken them on a tour through one of the engines, showed them all of the tools and the house. Their teacher, man was she pretty, put on the gear to show the kids not to be scared if there was ever, God forbid, a fire at any of their houses. The kids had a ton of questions. They wanted to know where the firehouse dog was, and if girls could be firefighters too. But the thing they wanted the most was to see someone slide down the pole. Aemon smiled, remembering.  The sarge nodded his head ever so slightly at Aemon, choosing him.  When Aemon had gotten to the bottom of the pole, all the kids cheered. "Again!" they'd yelled. He'd tried to be cool about it, his buddies were watching after all. But a huge grin had spread across his face anyway. "Okay," he told the kids. "One more time." They'd cheered again. 
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Aeman's eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep, still hearing the kids' cheers, seeing their teacher's smiling face. Sometime later, a minute, ten minutes or twenty? His eyes flew open and he felt his heart racing to the frantic pace of the piercing alarm. In no time flat he was dressed and down that pole again. He found his spot on the truck, holding on for dear life as it pulled out of the station.
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click on comments below to share your story, poem or creative non-fiction musings - 250(ish) words or less. don't let your adoring public (that's me!) down =)