Nov 24 2008
Word Shot – 24 November, 2008
Congratulations to those of you who participated in last week’s Word Shot. Hundreds – probably thousands – of people read what you wrote. I personally enjoyed the reading. If you haven’t yet read the submissions, click here.
And now for this week’s Word Shot photo:
Has this criminal been handcuffed by the police? Look again at the “handcuffs.” And what about the barbed wire? What’s going on here? What has this man done and what will happen to him? What can you learn about the man from what he is wearing? Let your imagination run with this and write something about it – from one word to a full story – in a comment to this post.
In the coming week, check back occasionally to see what others have written.
And remember: If you participate in 10 Word Shots, I’ll e-mail you all three of my e-manuals free. Once you’ve submitted to a total of 10, let me know via e-mail and I’ll send you the manuals in PDF format.
Don’t be shy. And don’t give in to writer’s block. Give this Word Shot a shot and hone your writing skills … and your imagination.
He heard the shutter snap closed behind him. The wire was uncomfortable, but it would only be a little bit longer before the shoot was over. Snap, snap, snap. The sound of money in his pocket.
He wouldn’t have to tell his wife that he had been fired from his day job. Not yet anyway.
Okay Harry. All you have to do for the ten thousand is jump backwards over this fence. Don’t worry we will be right here to record the winning jump as well as provide first aid. We even provide an excuse for your injuries, should you acquire any, to your wife.
The company really wants this promo and you really want to keep your job. Am I right or what?
On my mark dude. You can do it. One…two…
He came to with a start. He was lying on the grass, and could smell the sweet stink of manure. He had a coxcomb on his head, throbbing with his heartbeat. He reached to check for blood, and regretted it. The sharp ends of wires scratched his bare wrists.
“Get on yer feet.” A quavering voice. An old woman?
“Sir, I_”
“Quiet! I’ve had it up to here with you people.”
He scrambled to his feet. Too quickly, it seemed. A metallic click. A gun?
“Sir, I work for the county, and-”
“I said quiet! Get to walkin’!”
It was going to be a long day.
It’s stinking hot here in the back paddocks and we’ve been out here since dawn. When the dogs round up this last lot of sheep and we get them onto the truck, we’ll be done. It’s a big task, bringing them all in for shearing but it’s one I really enjoy. I like being able to stand back and watch the sheepdogs do what I have trained them so well to do. I rarely have to intervene any more, just the occasional shouted command. They work as a team, communicating to each other in ways I just can’t understand. They’re loyal and hard working and we would never get this job done without them.
Now where did I put that piece of wire I need to tie their leads together before I put them in the back of the Jeep?
“Tell me my offence. Why I have been handcuffed?”
“………………………………….?”
“No, I am not a trespasser! I am only a passer by!
It is my country as well.”
“…………………………………?”
“I haven’t crossover the border. And I don’t accept
your so called boundaries.”
“…………………………………?”
“I belong to this country. Before couple of years ago
my forefathers, my grandfather and even my father were
born here. Have dare you can say I am a stranger to
this country?”
“…………………………………?
“I want to see my ancestry house. I want to feel
that age. Please don’t thwart me. Let me go there.”
“………………………………..?”
“No, I don’t have visa and I don’t want to grant it.
Before years a team of several leaders decided to
divide this great country for their interest. Do you
know how much it coasted to both the countries?
Millions of lives and billions of dollars and seas of tears!
These two countries are the by-products of their
diseased mind. I don’t accept this partition”
“……………………………..?”
“No-no I am not sorry for my act. And I don’t want
to return as well. Let me proceed please. And remove
this barbed handcuffs. I am not a barbarian.”
“………………………………?”
“Don’t blame on me again. I don’t want to live as a
trespasser in my forefathers’ land. You all are
trespassers in my country. Kill me officer, gun down
me.”
“……………………….?”
Yes, I am ready. But wait…wait….please fullfil my
last wish. I don’t want to die as a national of either
country. I don’t want to die here or there. Please kill
and bury me there only in NO MAN’S LAND.
Shoot me now!”
“Why am I standing out here in the middle of nowhere near this barb-wire fence!? Why are my hands all tied up!? Why is there a ring on my finger!? Who am I!? Why is there a picture of my hands all over the Internet!?!”
Carol twisted the wire around his wrists as he slept. Finally sleeping, after hour upon hour of writhing. Climbing. The poison ivy had blistered on his chest and on his neck and his arms now. Now, that Dr. Westerfall had given him a dose of Benadryl that could drop a cow. When he had passed out in the field due to exhaustion and dehydration, he had apparently landed right in the middle of one of his worst childhood memories. Poison Ivy and Richard were not comrades. He had avoided the near occasion of Poison Ivy and Poison Sumac and Poison Anything for close to 20 years. He had a photographic memory of those leaves of three. Through no fault of his own, now, he was at the mercy of that viney villain. But at least now he slept. The journey and the trauma itself had been arduous, and post traumatic stress inducing. But adding this to the mix was the icing on the proverbial cake. Carol placed her hands on him as he slept, sending him healing energy. Healing light. Waves of Reiki.
While he slept, she washed his body with tea tree oil soap, and dabbed him–blotted him dry with a towel she planned on disposing of completely. Next she took the bottle that the doctor had given her, and applied it generously to a cotton ball dabbing the blisters, some of them oozing. Covering him now with a towel, she gathered up everything that had touched him and disposed of them in ziplock bags. She slowly untwisted the wire around his wrists, and disposed of it as well. Although, she was not allergic herself, she showered off now, making sure that there would be no residue of that terrible oil of that terrible ivy. Lying down by his side, she settled herself in,taking one last sigh, hopeful that her efforts would lessen his discomfort, and that he would somehow consider hiking the Appalachian Trail with her again.