The "Tell the Story" Challenge

Hello, folks! Allison Grace @ https://allisongracewrites.com tagged me for the Tell the Story Challenge, so today I am posting that! Here are its rules:

1. Pick an image out of the choices.
2. Write a short story, poem, or whatever applies to that image.
3. Choose other bloggers to do the challenge.
4. Give your nominees a few more images to choose from.

You can read Allison's post (and her cool poem!) here. When Allison tagged me, I picked this image out of the choices she gave me:

'Cause it's a pig. And pigs are cool. (Think Charlotte's Web.) And it is such an interesting image! So I wrote this pig's story for him. Without further ado, "A Hog's Log: Day #3":

---

It is so good to be free, but the journey proceeding a pig’s escape is not always easy. Especially when it involves swimming.

I stepped into the ocean this morning with only the knowledge of where I had came from. I knew very well that I was fleeing the bacon farm, but little did I know what lay ahead.

Why am I swimming away from my old home? That is a simple question. You see, some pigs need to act for themselves. Not every pig can have a spider to spin webs with nice things about them. Not every pig can become too famous to be butchered. Some pigs have to escape death themselves.

I’m swimming because I realize I’m not the most important pig in the world, so I won’t survive if I stay at my farm. But it is tough for a pig to leave his farm, too. So I decided that, with a little courage, I could escape a horrible death. With a little courage, I could head toward something else instead.

In a way, everybody is a swimming pig.

Everyone’s swimming away from something, and everyone’s swimming toward the unknown.

Everyone feels as if they are far more suited for dry land, but they must swim, with just as many swimming fins as a pig has.

Everyone has to choose to “just keep swimming, just keep swimming.”

If you take another angle, you’ll also notice that everyone has a seagull on their back. Sure, he’s your wingman, a loyal companion on a long journey. But he also weighs you down. And to be frank, some seagulls aren’t as helpful as spelling-bee-gold-medalist spiders.

But we’ll get through this. Just keep swimming.

---

Now to tag some bloggers! After some careful thinking, I choose...

Coralie @ https://gracebought.wordpress.com  

Jessis Bingham @ https://paperstrider.com 

Julia Nelson @ https://www.julianelsonauthor.com 

Here are their image choices:

(All of these are from Pixabay, so don't worry about copyright.) ;)

Some fiction stuff!

When I ran a poll a few weeks back, some of you asked for more creative writing. This week and the last I have especially been focusing on fiction more than nonfiction, so today I will share a couple pieces with you. Don’t worry, I’m not adding another novel to your pile; these are both very short.

First off, a little bit of flash fiction. It is a zoom-in a little part of one of my character’s backstory. In Booker Bunny and the 99 Captives, he is known as the Captain. But when he was a young monkey, his name was Ajay.

***

“Grandfather?”

My grandfather, a much older monkey, turns from his nearly-finished mango. Even from the tree branch we sit on, far away from the rest of the tribe, their chattering is loud; so he leans close. “What is it, Ajay?” 

“Won’t you tell me your story one more time?” I’m one of the oldest child-monkeys in the tribe, but I never tire of my grandfather's tales of sailing with buccaneers, looting priests, sinking ships, and his escape from his slavery to the pirates. The part where he rode a shark to the shore of our island is my favorite. But all his stories are an inspiration to me.

My grandfather grins. “Didn’t I tell it last night? You know my rule. Wait another moon.”

He sees my frown and says, “Ah, but the tribe’s having another ant-fishing contest. I never won those when I was young. Go win the spear-trophy and make me proud!”

I don’t enjoy ant-fishing much — sticking twigs in ant holes to get ants — but if I have a chance to impress my grandfather, an ex-swashbuckler who has seen everything, I’ll give the ant-fishing contest one more shot. 

We climb down the rough bark until we reach the ground, and find many of the tribe’s youth around a low, shady hill, whittling their sticks. Their parents and the tribe elders are off to the side cheering. 

“We’ve already started the tournament, but feel free to join!” says an elder with graying fur.

“Quickly, go find a stick, Ajay!” my grandfather yells over the commotion. 

So I climb back up the tree and take my time when looking for a stick. It’s too far into the competition to win anyways. I think about my grandfather’s adventures as I search, and then it hits me. 

When the pirates were returning, my grandfather escaped despite his lack of time. How? He used his brains — and so can I!

I grab a stick and impale a mango. I don’t care if there is a rule against it, because if my stick’s extra sweet, the ants will like it more. Then I climb back down the tree to the hill.

All the other child-monkeys are sticking their ant-fishing sticks into ant holes. I poke my sticky ant-fishing twig into a disregarded hole, and pull it out to find it absolutely covered in ants — fire ants! I shriek and throw my stick. Then the elders see it, and to my delight, declare me the winner and give me the spear-trophy. Grandfather beams with pride.

Suddenly, there’s a loud noise, like a large beast chopping through the vines. “Men!” shouts my grandfather. “Everybody, climb up high, and fast!”

I climb a little. But what if the men hurt my tribe? I think. Emboldened by the spear in my hand, I decide to face the men. 

As the tribe climbs higher, I climb lower. I want to have an adventure like my grandfather’s, so even as he calls, I don’t look back.

***

Sorry about the cliff hanger! I have written a full version of Ajay's story, but it won't be properly polished until after I've finished my novel.

Until then, I have a little snippet from Booker Bunny and the 99 Captives that I wrote to develop a bunny family's personalities. I hope you enjoy this fun around-the-table dialogue.

***

Background --
The rabbits, oldest to youngest: Uncle Wilder, Mr. Cooper— Uncle Wilder’s nephew, Mrs. Sunray, (Mr. Cooper and Mrs. Sunray are a married couple, bunnies go by their first names), Digger, Konnor, Meadow, Al, Chris, Hope, and Holly. All of the younger rabbits are Mrs. Sunray and Mr. Cooper’s children, except for Konnor, whom Uncle Wilder adopted. They are all chubby cottontails with short ears and various shades of brown fur, and they are sitting at a table made from a fallen bookcase to eat their beginning-of-spring-breakfast feast, otherwise known as their March feast.

“Some more blueberries, please?” came a small voice--Holly, from the edge of the table-bookcase. 

“Me, too!” hollered Hope, her twin. “Please!” 

“Hope, you’re such a copycat,”Al said.

“Yeah, especially when it comes to Holly,” chimed in Chris.

Meadow laughed. “Oh my, Chris, speak for yourself! You’re Al’s shadow!”

“Would somebody please pass the blueberry bowl?” Holly repeated.

“You’ve been hogging them all, Holly!” Konnor exclaimed. He pushed the blueberry bowl further from Holly. 

“Konnor’s got a point there,” Mrs. Sunray said softly. “I think you’ve had more than enough.”

Holly looked toward Uncle Wilder with a pitiful face.

“A growing bunny needs her berries!” Uncle Wilder argued. “I would know! When I was a lad, I used to—“

Hope interrupted. “I’m a growing bunny, too! I want more blueberries, too!”

“Quit the ruckus!” Konnor said a little too loudly.

Digger turned away from his meal for the first time. “What’d ya say?”

“Digger, your ears are clogged!” Al whispered.

“Huh?”

Meadow giggled and tapped Digger’s shoulder. “Your ears are clogged!”

“Oh.” Digger unclogged his ears and continued eating with his now-muddy paws.

“I told you we should have had them tidy up before the meal!” said Mrs. Sunray to Uncle Wilder.

“But it’s our March feast!” said Uncle Wilder. “It would be cruel to force your children to clean themselves on such a special day! After all, everybody knows that mud symbolizes spring itself, and you ought not to—“

“Have you never heard of ‘spring cleaning’?” Mrs. Sunray countered.

“Hey!” shouted Konnor. “Where’d they go?”

Mr. Cooper finished off the blueberries and licked his lips.

Dr. Tess Hawk,The Abducted: Part 2

If you missed part one, read that here first. 

Then, Sugar, using his nose, pointed to a spray bottle full of purple bubbly stuff, one of many strapped to my side. Instinctively, I held it out and sprayed it hard at the alien before he could move an inch. The alien evaporated into nothing but stinky green fumes and left behind nothing but a small, green puddle.

    Sugar and I didn’t take much time to think. Things were happening fast now. All I knew was I would need a bit more than chance to find my way out of this maze of a UFO. And who knows how deep in space the spaceship might’ve gone while I was sleeping?

    We began wandering about the UFO. The reflective doors opened at our approach. I felt confident now, with my little friend in my pocket and my Alien Evaporator (yes, I named it) at my side. I was looking forward to returning home and being back with my other friends and family.

    Sugar and I, courageous but confused, had wandered but a few empty rooms at a fast pace when we came across the pilot cabin of the alien’s ship. The pilot cabin had a round clear top and a flat clear bottom. In the center was a spinning stool, surrounded by controls not unlike an airplane’s. Atop the stool was an alien who was similar to the needle-bearing one except he was taller, and had longer arms and bigger, fewer eyes.

    When I stepped into the room, he made no move to attack. He just sat there with his head cocked and a curious look on his face. Sugar, using his nose, pointed to the spray bottle.

    But I hesitated.

    Did he know I was captive here? He seems rather clueless, I thought.

The pilot alien’s expression looked familiar. Suddenly, short memories flooded my brain. In each flash of memory I saw myself reflected in some object---a vase, a window---my face filled with the same expression of curiosity.

    Then, the flooding ceased. My memory was triggered to the inside of a plane---the pilot's cabin of a human-made plane. My brother -- an adult with messy red bangs and a loving grin underneath a pilot cap -- was teaching me to fly the little plane. At one point, as he instructed me, I became slightly confused. Before I could ask him anything, I noticed my reflection in a window. My expression --

I blinked and was back in the pilot cabin. Sugar kept pointing at the Alien Evaporator, but I did not even reach for it. I could not shoot the alien. He was too human to me now, with curiosity I could compare to my own and the same confusing situation I was in.

Sugar pointed more frantically now. So I slowly picked up the Alien Evaporator and pointed at the pilot alien.

“Leave,” I commanded. “Or I will shoot!”

The pilot put his hands up and waddled out of the room as quickly as he could. Once he was out, I immediately dropped the Alien Evaporator and took the stool. “Flying a UFO couldn’t be too different, right?” I asked the rat in my pocket with a shrug.

Through the clear bottom, I could see the UFO was hovering not far above Earth. The flight went smoothly and even enjoyably after I found a few small differences between UFOs and planes. Perhaps even easier than flying a plane! I was hovering safely over a small grassy cliff in my own backyard in no time.

Now the problem was finding my way to the exit. I slightly nervously put my hands in my pockets after putting the Alien Evaporator back in my belt.

One touched Sugar. His tiny tongue gently licked my hand and reassured me. Then he began directing me. He remembered being brought into the UFO. I went whichever way his nose pointed and we did not come across one alien. Soon we had found a room without a floor that was over the cliff.

In one big jump we were on Earth’s soft, green grass again. We were home.  Of course, I didn’t kiss the ground or anything, but it was a very happy moment. A sunrise decorated the sky.

Just when I thought the trouble was over, I saw ginormous monsters of aliens appearing around me -- three of them!

And suddenly, there were two more descending from their spaceship! They were each twice the size of the needle-bearing alien and had gaping mouths opened wide at me. They had fangs, too. They were slowly moving towards me, surrounding me in every direction, and getting closer and closer...

Fear crept over me. I sprayed the Alien Evaporator long and hard at them, but all it did was make them sniffle. I shot their crowds of eyes, but the only reaction I got was a few blinks. I tried to keep my chin up but now I was trapped in a circle of them. Even Sugar was looking down in defeat. I still tried, looking all around for a solution until there was only one place to look.

I look down in defeat. Then I saw it -- a tiny purple flower right next to my foot! The purple Alien Evaporator mix -- I had made it with a lot of water and one tiny drop of this flower’s nectar! Knowing how much more powerful the rare flower was alone, I split it down the stem. The alien monsters, choking and coughing violently, ascended back to their ship to fly away.

I had at last defeated them. We had defeated them. As Sugar and I watched the UFO spin off into the stars, I looked forward to the future. Then something told me they’d be back. Something else to look forward to.

   

Dr. Tess Hawk, the Abducted: Part 1

Today instead of writing something new, I'm posting something I wrote a year ago (with no additional edits). It is part of a sci-fi short story called "Dr. Tess Hawk, the Abducted". 

With the extra time I gain by posting old stuff I plan attempt a time travel comedy short story. (No, I haven't ever wrote a time travel comedy before, I'm kind of messing around and still trying to find out what my genre is.) :)

So without further ado, I hand the mic to Dr. Tess Hawk.

It was not a normal day. I knew it from the moment I woke up.

I woke when I heard him coming.

THUMP! I fell to the smooth, hard ground on my hands and knees after what felt like a long rest floating in the air.

On this ground, I felt like I was riding in a car except this one went up, down, left, right, and many angles in between. As I looked around me, I realized this was all I imagined a UFO would be like. I saw the room I was in was round-ish and metallic with reflective yet see-through walls. They were like thin, bended glass with clear reflections in the glares, but they were not glass. They had a strange metallic tint to them. Mostly all I saw through them was foggy white.

I didn’t have a clue how I ended up here. The last thing I could remember was star-gazing in my yard. I felt a pounding pain in my head.

Through one clear wall, I saw a green blob of a creature getting closer -- blobby step by step.

Whenever he took a step, his jumbo body jiggled like jello. He wasn’t as tall as my standing height, but much wider and heavier looking. Holding all of him up were two dwarfish legs with no noticeable feet. Near the top of his head was a mess of little eyes -- over ten, maybe. In his green, slimy hand (or was it just an arm?) was a large syringe needle, like the one a doctor uses.

I was petrified. Everything seemed to be in slow motion -- unreal, like a movie. Even the alien was moving slowly closer.

Is he going to hurt me?

What will I do?

That needle couldn’t be for good…

How will I escape?

Is he moving that slowly or does it just feel that way?

Did they knock me out?

Or was it just shock?

My mind was muddled with questions. I glanced at a wall and saw my reflection. Perhaps that will help clear my confusion? I thought. My reflection was very pretty with a long, thick, curvy, red braid that reached to my hips. The loose hair on the top of my head, above the braid, was fairly frizzy, but that was to be expected of someone who had just been abducted by aliens of outer space.

I looked down. Around my tall body draped a long lab coat.

I need to survive… I need to save people...

My name tag said, “Dr. Tess Hawk.” Now this was all beginning to feel much more real -- as real as me.

I’m a scientist… I need answers…

The needle-bearing alien was in the same room now.

But what do I do? What do I do?

I felt around my lab coat anxiously.

That’s when I felt something warm in my lab coat move. It -- or rather he -- was a white, fluffy ball of goodness peering up at me.

Sugar!

I suppose if I were anybody else I would have screamed aloud. But I knew Sugar was not the kind of rat to be screamed at. No, he was my only companion.

As I stroked him, I forgot the alien getting closer and felt a calm peace. I quietly worked to sort out my brain, still stroking Sugar’s fur. Pathetically, I looked towards him. Does he remember anything? Does he remember more than me?

THUD!

I shook when I heard another loud, rubbery footstep. The needle-bearing alien was suddenly almost close enough to stab me. Looking up at him in fear, I shuffled backwards on my knees.

To be continued...