“Something out there?”
Startled, she turned, her thoughts interrupted. Behind her, sunlit snow sparkled bright through the window. “Where do these flies come from, this time of year?”
“It’s one of life’s mysteries, and a sure sign of eventual spring.”
She lifted the window. “Gran-pere duct-taped garbage bags for storm windows.” She shivered, remembering how the winter flies of her childhood had thudded like dark whispers against those makeshift storm-panes.
“I can’t tell if they’re trying to come in or trying to get out.” She lifted the storm window. Drowsy houseflies roused, wings stuttering in cool fresh air. “Go.”
***
The above is a revision of the first hurried draft. I hope it stands a little stronger on its own. It is a scene from the ongoing plodding untold story of Hope’s mother, the wandering woman who ended up with a Scottish Longhorn farmer in VT.
***
“Something out there?”
Startled, she turned, unaware that he’d been watching her where she stood at the window, sunlit snow sparkling bright behind her. “Where do these flies come from, this time of year?”
“I don’t know– it’s one of life’s mysteries, and a sure sign of eventual spring.”
“I can’t tell if they’re trying to come in or trying to get out.” She unlatched and lifted the window. “Gran-pere duct-taped garbage bags for storm windows. The winter flies thudded like whispers behind the dark plastic.” She lifted the storm-pane. Drowsy houseflies roused, wings stuttering in cool fresh air.
Yep, that’s 99 words, no more no less. The Carrot Ranch challenge this week is to: “write a story using storm windows. It can be literal on a house, but also consider other portals, even spaceships or submarines. Can you make it into something new or build a story around something historical? Go where the prompt leads!”
Did you recognize Hope’s mom at the window and her dad looking on and listening in? They all can be found together HERE.
Yuck, I hate flies. This certainly is very descriptive.
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Yes, flies are yucky, and this is where the prompt led. It is a mystery those few fat lazy houseflies that just appear in the windows in late winter, maybe after a bit of a warm up. I’ve never known anyone to let them free as she has done. They usually get vacuumed up or swatted.
Thanks Robbie!
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No one likes flies, but I did feel for them, trapped between panes.
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Such empathy! Thanks.
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🙂
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Recycling taken too far? Or maybe he should have washed out those garbage bags first.
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I was just trying to show her poverty growing up and maybe more from her childhood. This piece is too out of context, it’s not working, just an incomplete scene out of place here.
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No, I thought it was fine, quite amusing, although I guess I missed the point!
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I appreciate you reading and commenting. I just revised the scene in hopes of making it more clear.
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Yep, clearer, I think, although I did think it was fine already.
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No matter how we try to chase them out, the flies and the creepy crawlies always come in…like this description, ‘how the winter flies of her childhood had thudded like dark whispers against those makeshift storm-panes.’ interesting response to the prompt
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I was visiting a great aunt in CT that had gotten invaded with lady bugs… between the panes.
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Nice revision and thanks for showing your changes. Plots are common; it’s like learning a math basic; addition. A sentence like this comes from experience and depths when we dare to explore and write through what we know: “…remembering how the winter flies of her childhood had thudded like dark whispers against those makeshift storm-panes.” You have a good voice.
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