Annual Christmas Fruit Cake Gala

With Christmas just around the corner

and lots of parties and food,

I thought I'd share a fun story I wrote 

for Faithwriters a few years ago.

The Annual Christmas Fruit Cake Bake-Off Gala

“Good evening. This is Cheri Bing, reporting for WHIP, in Quince Valley, Florida. I am standing outside the Capitol Convention Building, where we are expecting much to be happening here tonight. The Annual Christmas Cake Bake-Off and the State Christmas Gala are being held in the same hall because of a scheduling dilemma. 

“Tables are loaded with exquisite displays of culinary creations: a Black Forest Cherry Cake, a Festive Eggnog Cake, an Orange Marmalade Noel Cake, a Chocolate Yule Log, a Jewel Fruit Cake, and even a Coconut Cookie Tree. Band music is filling the air, and dignitaries are arriving by limousines. What a grand event this will be! 

“Here is Miss Linda Emmon, wife of Senator Meringue, arriving now, dressed in a yellow chiffon gown, topped with fluffy white stole. 

“Hello, Miss Emmons, could you tell us what you think of the Bake-Off and Gala occurring at the same time?”

“It’s an outrage! To think that we have to mingle with restaurant chefs and ordinary cooks. It’s enough to give me the shivers!”

“Thank you, Miss Emmons. Let’s go inside to get some other opinions. Here is someone in a dark plum outfit near the food tables.

“Excuse me, Ma’am. Could you tell me your name and what brings you here, tonight, the Bake-Off or the Gala?”

“My name is Candace Dumpling. I’m just here for the excitement. I love Christmas puddings, but I think any kind of cake or pie is scrumptious. I could just sit in a corner and eat one all by myself. Oh, this is so much fun! Did you know that because of the double scheduling, anyone can come…no invitations needed?”

“So, do you know any of the Cake Contestants?”

“Oh, yes, there’s George over there. He’s a peach, but a little young for me to date; still got fuzz on his chin…hee, hee!” 

“What’s the name of the band?”

“That’s The Concords! Aren’t they great? They’re whining, though, because they are squeezed into the corner and have to share the stage with The Pomegranate Ensemble, a foreign group for the Gala.”

“Well, thank you, Miss… oh, there she goes… Well, let’s talk to one of the cake contestants, Chef Ping Apple.

“Hello, Sir, what do you think of the competition tonight?”

“It’s quite a crowd all right! I hope things stay organized. I’ve spent twenty-three full hours working on my nine-layer cake. ‘Twould be a shame if anything happened to it.” 

“So you think you’ve got a good chance of winning?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I even brought my Granny, Ida Smith. It’s her recipe, and when I get the blue ribbon, I want to share it with her.”

“Well, that’s very considerate of you…and you, Ma’am, do you think he’ll win?”

“Hi, Dear. Yes, I think he has a good chance. My grandson may seem prickly on the outside, but he’s got a sweet inner core.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Ping Apple and Granny Smith. Now, I hear the music changing. It sounds like the Holiday Mixer Waltz. The floor is filled with swirling dresses of all colors: raspberry, cranberry, lime green, tangerine, and blueberry. 

“The Pomegranate Ensemble is now playing the Mango Tango. A couple dressed in black is strutting shoulder to shoulder across the floor, amid flickering specks of light. Wow! Look at them dip! What a pair!

“Anna Chiquita, dressed in a cream-colored skirt and satin slippers, is now singing ‘Feliz Navidad’, with The Pomegranates playing and people singing along.

“Now the Concord band has started playing ‘Holiday Hoe-Down Cobbler.’ The crowd is really getting into a party spirit. I think I better back out of the way. I can hardly hear myself, with all the clapping and foot stomping.

“Oh, no! Percy Simmons, with his sequined tuxedo, has backed into Mandy Rin, in the orange Chinese kimono. With her arms flailing, she’s trying to catch her balance, but grabs the edge of the tablecloth instead. Oh, no! There goes Chef Ping Apple’s nine-layer cake! It’s falling! It’s upside-down on the floor. He’s not too happy. Oh, I hope this doesn’t end in people throwing punches. I think it’s time for me to sign off.

“This is Cheri Bing, from station WHIP, in Quince, Florida. Merry Christmas!”

FREE BOOK

(with any purchase)

( CLICK HERE)

This story is included in

A Box of Christmas Candy

(A Country Store Collection)

BOOK SALE!

You may purchase my books at discounted prices
until January 1, 2014.

ALL 4 BOOKS for $15

(Email Me)

"A Home for Phoebe" 
HALF-PRICE 

at

Full Sail Books

Altered Bee
Lamb's Book and Bible Store

or

(Email Me)

DISCOUNT CODES

at Createspace E-store

A Home for Phoebe

(FS8T7LRQ for $5.00 off)

A Box of Christmas Candy

A Bag of Bubble Gum

A Barrel of Pickles

(LDEJDUVU for $2.00 off)

"The Annual Christmas Fruit Cake Bake-Off Gala"

Guess what? I'm hosting Friday Fiction today!

If you have a story you'd like to share,

add your site to the link at the bottom,

or if you just like to read fun stories,

you can skip from one blog to another.

With Christmas just around the corner

and lots of parties and food,

I thought I'd share a fun story I wrote 

for Faithwriters a few years ago.

The Annual Christmas Fruit Cake Bake-Off Gala

“Good evening. This is Cheri Bing, reporting for WHIP, in Quince Valley, Florida. I am standing outside the Capitol Convention Building, where we are expecting much to be happening here tonight. The Annual Christmas Cake Bake-Off and the State Christmas Gala are being held in the same hall because of a scheduling dilemma. 

“Tables are loaded with exquisite displays of culinary creations: a Black Forest Cherry Cake, a Festive Eggnog Cake, an Orange Marmalade Noel Cake, a Chocolate Yule Log, a Jewel Fruit Cake, and even a Coconut Cookie Tree. Band music is filling the air, and dignitaries are arriving by limousines. What a grand event this will be! 

“Here is Miss Linda Emmon, wife of Senator Meringue, arriving now, dressed in a yellow chiffon gown, topped with fluffy white stole. 

“Hello, Miss Emmons, could you tell us what you think of the Bake-Off and Gala occurring at the same time?”

“It’s an outrage! To think that we have to mingle with restaurant chefs and ordinary cooks. It’s enough to give me the shivers!”

“Thank you, Miss Emmons. Let’s go inside to get some other opinions. Here is someone in a dark plum outfit near the food tables.

“Excuse me, Ma’am. Could you tell me your name and what brings you here, tonight, the Bake-Off or the Gala?”

“My name is Candace Dumpling. I’m just here for the excitement. I love Christmas puddings, but I think any kind of cake or pie is scrumptious. I could just sit in a corner and eat one all by myself. Oh, this is so much fun! Did you know that because of the double scheduling, anyone can come…no invitations needed?”

“So, do you know any of the Cake Contestants?”

“Oh, yes, there’s George over there. He’s a peach, but a little young for me to date; still got fuzz on his chin…hee, hee!” 

“What’s the name of the band?”

“That’s The Concords! Aren’t they great? They’re whining, though, because they are squeezed into the corner and have to share the stage with The Pomegranate Ensemble, a foreign group for the Gala.”

“Well, thank you, Miss… oh, there she goes… Well, let’s talk to one of the cake contestants, Chef Ping Apple.

“Hello, Sir, what do you think of the competition tonight?”

“It’s quite a crowd all right! I hope things stay organized. I’ve spent twenty-three full hours working on my nine-layer cake. ‘Twould be a shame if anything happened to it.” 

“So you think you’ve got a good chance of winning?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I even brought my Granny, Ida Smith. It’s her recipe, and when I get the blue ribbon, I want to share it with her.”

“Well, that’s very considerate of you…and you, Ma’am, do you think he’ll win?”

“Hi, Dear. Yes, I think he has a good chance. My grandson may seem prickly on the outside, but he’s got a sweet inner core.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Ping Apple and Granny Smith. Now, I hear the music changing. It sounds like the Holiday Mixer Waltz. The floor is filled with swirling dresses of all colors: raspberry, cranberry, lime green, tangerine, and blueberry. 

“The Pomegranate Ensemble is now playing the Mango Tango. A couple dressed in black is strutting shoulder to shoulder across the floor, amid flickering specks of light. Wow! Look at them dip! What a pair!

“Anna Chiquita, dressed in a cream-colored skirt and satin slippers, is now singing ‘Feliz Navidad’, with The Pomegranates playing and people singing along.

“Now the Concord band has started playing ‘Holiday Hoe-Down Cobbler.’ The crowd is really getting into a party spirit. I think I better back out of the way. I can hardly hear myself, with all the clapping and foot stomping.

“Oh, no! Percy Simmons, with his sequined tuxedo, has backed into Mandy Rin, in the orange Chinese kimono. With her arms flailing, she’s trying to catch her balance, but grabs the edge of the tablecloth instead. Oh, no! There goes Chef Ping Apple’s nine-layer cake! It’s falling! It’s upside-down on the floor. He’s not too happy. Oh, I hope this doesn’t end in people throwing punches. I think it’s time for me to sign off.

“This is Cheri Bing, from station WHIP, in Quince, Florida. Merry Christmas!”

This story is included in

A Box of Christmas Candy

(part of the Country Store Collections)

HALF PRICE til Jan.1st at Full Sail Books 

The Mystery "H"

Today, I'm participating in Patty Wysong's  A-Z meme.

 This week is focusing on the letter H, 

but if I tell you what it stands for, it will ruin the surprise.

See if you can guess what H stands for in this story - 

In a Dither 

Mom gets in such a dither over things. She's gotten everyone dashing here and there before Emily gets here. 

"Heavens t'Betsy! We're out of toilet paper! We can't run out of toilet paper ...or coffee..." She scribbled a list on the back of an envelope. "I ought to pay the light bill before stopping at the post office and then go to the bank, too, and get some cash from the ATM machine. You never know when you might need some money."

I stealthily grabbed a slice of pizza and tried to sneak out the back door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Out with Alex"

"Oh no, you don't! I want you home when Emily gets here. I don't want to be worrying about you."

"Ah, Mom!"

"Don't you, 'ah mom' me, young man! I need you to mow the lawn and clean up the clutter around the place while Tracy and I go to town. There are bikes and balls and lawn chairs everywhere."

Tracy stuck her tongue out at me. 

"But Mom!" 

Dad growled from his office, "Zack, obey your mom! Emily will be here around two o'clock, and I need to get some work done before then. " 

Mom fluttered her hands. "Two o'clock! I've got to get going!" 

As I said, Mom was in a dither and had the whole family getting ready for Emily's arrival. Well, not the WHOLE family. Tracy never does anything - the spoiled brat! Most of the stuff in the backyard was hers - a hula hoop, a pink scooter, a skateboard (well, that was mine). I don't know why the big fuss. You'd think the queen of England was coming to visit. I yanked on the mower's pull-cord. The air was heavy and thick --not enough of a breeze to keep my hair out of my eyes. 

After I mowed the lawn, I took a soda and sank into the softness of the couch to listen to some tunes and text Alex.

RENTS CRZY TDY. CANT COME OVER

MINE 2. SORRY DUDE

Awhile later, Mom blew through the door. "What a mad house out there!" She dropped some bags on the table. "Can you get the rest from the car, Zack?"

LATR. GOT 2 GO

OK DUDE

I slid my legs from the back of the couch to the floor and scuffed out the door. The hot air body-slammed me in the chest. I juggled the remaining seven bags of groceries while wrestling with a gust of wind to close the back door. When I tumbled the bags onto the kitchen table, I heard "Bippity-Boppity-Boo" from the living room. Tracy had already claimed my spot on the couch to watch her movie.

Mom ranted from one of the bedrooms. "I should have gone to the laundromat, too! I don't want to run out of towels and clean sheets over the weekend." 

Dad emerged from his office. "It's starting to rain. Are the windows closed?" 

There was nothing left to do but wait for Emily. Mom microwaved some nuggets and fries. Everyone settled down here and there - watching a movie or doing computer stuff. I texted Alex again. 

WATS UP, DUDE?

BORED

ME 2 

The lights flickered and went out. Everything was silent - except for Tracy screaming at the top of her lungs. 

POWER OUT

ME 2

The lights came back on, the movie came back on, and Tracy stopped screaming. Mom yelled from her room. "Is everyone okay?" 

"Yes, Mom. Nothing happened in the five minutes that the lights went out." I think she gets in more of a panic over things than Tracy does. 

BORED. DYING 2 HANG OUT.

ME 2 

I rummaged through the frig - nothing but yogurt, salad stuff, and left-overs. Yuck! I thought mom just went shopping! I found some wheat squares in the cupboard and dumped a load into a bowl with some milk and sugar. I hunched over the kitchen table and scooped the cereal in my face. 

Dad sat next to me. "The weather channel says that Hurricane Emily isn't going to hit us after all." 

I sat up like I had been zapped with a tazer gun. "What! After working my tail-bone off and being bored to death, Emily's not coming?" I glanced toward the bedroom door and whispered, "Does Mom know?" 

Dad grinned. "No, I haven't told her, yet. Didn't you want to hang out with Alex?"

~ ~ ~ 

Did you guess it? 

You can find this story and others like it in my book for teens,

A Barrel of Pickles. 

Also, there's Special September Sale

 for my historical novel,A Home for Phoebe, 

and its companion study guide - 

both for $15 until the end of the month. 

Contact Me 

Friday Fiction - The Song of the Sunbeams

Sara Harricharan is hosting Friday Fiction today. She has links to other blogs that are posting stories today. Leave a comment to tell your appreciation. 

I wrote this story, The Song of the Sunbeams, after thinking about the account of Jesus' Triumphant Entry into Jerusalem, when the Pharisees asked Him to tell the children to stop singing "Hosanna." Jesus told them that if the people were silent, then the rocks would sing praises to Him. 

Also, there are many verses in the Psalms that speak of nature praising God. I wondered if we had the abilitly, we might be able to hear that song of praise.

I hope this fills you with the same joy and wonder that I felt as I wrote it.

The Song of the Sunbeams

Mike wasn’t supposed to be there, but Uncle Ted said, “History is happening today. Science will never be the same. I want you to see the future.”

Men and women with briefcases streamed into the auditorium. They set up their laptops and greeted old friends. Chairs clanged and microphones squeaked and voices echoed on the high ceiling. Uncle Ted stepped to the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen . . . ”

People scurried to their places.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Universal Code Project. We are honored to have many science and technical experts here. I am excited about what today will mean for the future.

“As you can see, we will be projecting our reports to the screen behind me. So, would you each log-in to the Universal Code site with the password emailed to you earlier? If you wish to speak, use one of the microphones set up on each table, please. This session is being recorded. If everyone is ready, let us begin.”

Mike found a chair near the back.

The screen lit up with the UCP logo, the earth with dotted lines across it. Uncle Ted smiled. “The Universal Code Project was established by Dr. Samuel Warden to decipher the newly discovered pattern in all of nature. With his technology, we have been able to digitalize the intricate design of the strange code. This code is imprinted on delicate snowflakes, viscous lava, and even the layers of rock at the Grand Canyon. Instead of listening to me spouting hot air, we’d like to hear from you. Tell us what you have discovered.”

A man near the front began. “Good morning. My name is Maitland Richards, doctor of biology at Harvard. We have been amazed to find the universal code in everything we have tested. It is in the DNA of the smallest bacteria to the oldest dinosaur bones. It repeats itself, but yet varies slightly from species to species.” A chart flashed up on the screen. “As you can see, even colors have a code, as do the different elements. Especially interesting is the code found in homo sapiens. We seem to have a code of our very own, different from all others.”

Mike leaned forward in his seat as professors and doctors each presented their data and discoveries.

“I’m Jack Reicher, a music professor from Berkley College. We are excited to discover that with Dr. Warden’s technology, we can digitalize sound. In the past, we have recorded sounds in the ocean and underground, but now we have found sound in unexpected places. There is sound in plants and rocks and even in electricity. This is what it looks like-”

002302040502050060020030100

100300110002000500400060003

 “And this is what it sounds like-” 

A trill of chirps and beeps filled the room.

Another man stood. “My name is Vince Tacker from NASA. For decades we have heard static sounds from space. It sounded like this-”

 A loud buzzing sound filled the room.

“Now, with our new equipment, it sounds like this – ”

 The buzz changed to an arpeggio of notes like cascading bells.

Mike jumped to his feet. He lifted his arms as if to let the music run through his fingers like a spray fountain. The music surrounded him. As he slowly turned around, he saw an old man with a broom stood in the doorway.

“I know dis song! I hear it all da time. It is da song of sunbeams when I sweep. It is da song of raindrops. It is beautiful, yah?”

Mike smiled, but the others in the room covered their ears and begged for it to be turned down. Uncle Ted turned off the music and tapped his microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down. I want to progress to the next stage of our project. We now have a program that converts the digital information into language. In other words, we should be able read the patterns found in nature.” 

He signaled his assistant and the numbers on the screen changed. They became strings of letters.

RDWORTHYNAMELAMBLORDMAJESTYHOL

PHAOMEGAGLORYFOREVERHONORKINGAL

The room was silent. Whispers drifted back and forth. Finally one man stood up. “What is this gibberish? It doesn’t make sense at all!” Chaos erupted.

Mike could see the words. They were squished together, but he could see them. “Worthy, Lamb, Majesty—“

The old man nudged him. “You know da words? I only know da German. What da words say?”

Mike could hear the song in his head. He began to sing. “Holy is the Lord. Worthy is the Lamb.”

The voices fell silent. Mike closed his eyes and lifted his voice.

“Glory, honor, majesty to God…”

 ~ ~ ~

Find this story and many others like it in 

A BARREL OF PICKLES 

(short stories and poems for teens)

 Available for purchase from me 

or from Amazon.com

or Full Sail Books.

 Get all 3 Country Store Collection from me for $15.

Don't forget to visit Sara's Friday Fiction links.

  (click here)

Give a Teen a Barrel of Pickles

I remember how hard it was to be strong for the Lord as a teenager. I remember how hard it was to feel different from the crowd. I remember the emotions of puppy love and daydreams of the future. I remember the silly times with my friends. I remember the heartbreak of rejection. I also remember growing in my faith and bursting with the enthusiasm and joy of being a Christian.

The next book in the Country Store Collections is for teens, 

especially Christian teens who need encouragement, 

who need to know someone understands how they feel.

A BARREL OF PICKLES 

is available at

Amazon

Full Sail Books

or 

directly from me.
(Email Me)

Buy all three books for $15
Bag of Bubble Gum -for children,
Box of Christmas Candy - for whole family

( more yet to come)

Here is an excerpt from  A Barrel of Pickles - (based on a true experience)

BON COURAGE

 “Mr. Duffy, I can’t be in this concert. This song goes against my beliefs as a Christian.”

“But, its just music. You don’t have sing the words, just play the notes.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Duffy, but I can’t.”

He didn’t understand, and by the end of the week, others followed my lead and dropped band and choir. I didn’t go back, but I knew it wasn’t over.

(click here for full story)

Friday Fiction - Ryan, Percy, and Jonathan Lee

Today's story is a peek into my newest 

Country Store Collections

A BARREL OF PICKLES

(short stories and poems for teens)

Ryan, Percy, and Jonathan Lee

(a riddle to be read aloud)

Once upon a time on a tiny island in the middle of the clear blue sea, there lived three friends: Ryan Wheet, Percy Butler, and Jonathan Lee. Whether the sun shone brightly or the winds of a hurricane swirled about, they were together day in and day out. 

They sailed in the waves on their homemade boat and battled against gulls and crabs. They climbed the rocks and swung from trees. They played pirates on the white beaches of sand which circled their tiny island in the middle of the clear blue sea. They shouted at their imaginary foes, 

"Three for one, and one for three,
Ryan and Percy and Jonathan Lee!"

Then one awful, horrible day, while they swung their wooden swords this way and that, Percy yelped. "Ouch!" He clamped his hand against his head, for Jonathan had clipped the edge of his ear.

"I'm sorry," said Jonathan. "I didn't mean to."

"I'm bleeding, you stupid boy!" Percy Butler shook his fist at his friend. "I don't want to play anymore. I'm going home." He crunched away toward the westward side of the island, where the dark waves ground the seashells into the rocks. 

"I'm not stupid!" said Jonathan Lee. He picked up some sand and threw it at Percy in vain. "I don't care! I don't want to play with you either!" He turned eastward where the slippery seaweed congealed on the slimy stones.

Poor Ryan Wheet stood by himself, alone on the white sandy beach. He looked westward and could barely see the brown coat of Percy Butler. Then he looked eastward and shaded his eyes to see Jonathan Lee scooting away in his berry red hat. Within moments, both friends had disappeared. 

Ryan tossed down his wooden sword. "It's no fun playing alone." He slumped against a log that had drifted ashore. With a gray feather, he sliced lines in the sand which circled their tiny island in the middle of the clear blue sea. "Oh what can I do? Friends should be friends . . . all together!"

He walked and walked to the westward side of the island, where the dark waves ground the seashells into the rocks, to try to talk some sense into his friend. "Percy, please come back. Friends should be friends . . . all together." 

Percy shook his head. "I won't come back if that clumsy Jonathan Lee is still there. He may say he's sorry, but I don't believe his sugary words. I don't need you guys anymore. Leave me alone." 

Ryan walked and walked eastward over the dunes, where the slippery seaweed congealed on the slimy stones, to try to talk some sense into his other old friend. "Jonathan, please come back. Friends should be friends . . . all together." 

Jonathan shook his head. "I won't come back until that nutty Percy Butler apologizes for calling me Stupid. He's a grouchy grump, full of salty, stinging words. I'm not coming back ever!" 

It was certainly a sticky situation.

So Ryan Wheet walked back and forth, from west to east and east to west, along the beach, making footprints in the spongy white sand which circled their tiny island in the middle of the clear blue sea. He pleaded, and he begged, but he couldn't hold his two friends together. He missed them. He needed them. 

Ryan loafed on the log that had drifted ashore and tossed his thoughts to the crabs and the gulls. "Doesn't our friendship mean anything to them?"

"Three for one, and one for three;
Ryan and Percy and Jonathan Lee."

He twirled the gray feather in his hand. "There's nothing left for me to do." 

So Ryan Wheet did nothing at all. He sat and sat and sat and sat. He rested his head on the log that had drifted ashore. He closed his eyes and thought of the times when the friends had been friends and battled imaginary foes. 

A shadow blocked the sun that was toasting his face. Someone poked his left side with a wooden sword. "Hey! Are you okay?" said a voice on his right. Ryan opened one eye. Above him stood his friends – Percy Butler and Jonathan Lee. Ryan smiled. It was great. They were all together again! 

There was nothing better than Ryan Wheet with P. Butler and J.Lee on the sand which circled their tiny island in the middle of the clear blue sea. 

"Three for one, and one for three,
Ryan and Percy and Jonathan Lee."

(Can you figure out what the characters represent?)

 ~~~

Find more stories like this in 

A BARREL OF PICKLES

(coming soon to Amazon.com)

Friday Fiction - For a While

It's the first official day of summer! 

In Maine, we don't have very many days that really feel like summer, but school is done, the leaves are out, and the grass is green. We flock to the coast to enjoy the sunshine and water. It's time to hike and camp and get outside. Regular routines are set aside to enjoy the warm, lazy days of summer.

Do you remember the feeling of doing nothing when you were a child? (maybe even as an adult when you're on vacation)  You gaze at the clouds or the rhythm of the waves. Your imagination soars. You forget about clocks and schedules. Time is suspended.

Is this what eternity is like? 

FOR A WHILE

Sammy slouched on the couch, his eyes riveted on the animated figures. With a snap, they disappeared.

“Hey! You said I could watch cartoons today!”

“You’ve been staring at that TV for three hours. I want to you to go outside for a while.” His mom tugged him to his feet and handed him his jacket. 

Sammy looked over his shoulder with pleading eyes. “How long is a while?” 

“At least a couple hours. Come back before suppertime.”

“Ahh…..” 

“Now, go on!” She gave his backside a pat and nudged him out the back door. 

Sammy scuffed along the driveway until his toe hit a long stick. So, he picked it up and dragged it behind him, making a satisfying scratching sound and a wiggly line. Then he used the stick to bat some pine cones into the pasture. 

He climbed on the fence and stared at Bessie chewing her cud. A chorus of honks overhead drew his attention to a flock of geese heading north. The wavering V got smaller and smaller until it faded into the horizon. A cloud looked like a bucking bronco. Now, it looked like a dragon, with puffs of steam coming from its nostrils. Now, it looked like a row of soldiers marching along. Now… it didn’t look like anything. 

Sammy jumped down and plucked a long piece of grass. He whipped it back and forth until he saw a grasshopper. He tried to catch it, but it kept fluttering away. Finally, he captured it between his cupped hands. He peered between his fingers and had a staring contest with it. The grasshopper made a daring escape through an opening. 

At the top of the hill, Sammy could see so far it looked like forever. The wind blew at his face. He spread his arms and flew back and forth down the hill until his plane crashed. Then he rolled over and over to the bottom. He lay on his back with his eyes closed – panting and listening to the rushing water. It sounded much louder than usual. He sprang to his feet to investigate.

With the melting snow and recent rains, the creek was quite high – much higher than it had been last summer. He found a branch and threw it into the water. The current carried it downstream on and on until he couldn’t see it anymore. He threw in another and watched it bounce down the rapids. One by one, he sent his fleet down the rushing river to meet the enemy. 

He noticed a fallen log across the creek and scrambled along the banks to get a better view. It looked safe enough – as long as he was careful. Just to be sure, he took off his shoes, so he could grip the bark with his toes. He shimmied up on the tree trunk, squatting for a while to get his balance. Then slowly he stood – arms outstretched. Inch by inch, he scooted along the log. At one point, he had to close his eyes to keep from looking at the tumbling waves beneath him. Finally, he reached the upturned roots on the other side. With a cheer of triumph, he pranced about on the mossy bank. 

A huge rock jutted into the stream. Sammy scaled to its top and peered over the edge. It had created a sheltered pool behind it. Sammy could see some fish in the quiet waters. He watched them sway back and forth, keeping their position without the slightest effort. When he shifted his position, a pebble rolled down and plopped into the pool, scaring the fish away. When the ripples calmed, he could see his reflection. He dropped another pebble. The ripples grew bigger and bigger until they melted into the grassy edges. He dropped one tiny pebble after another to keep the ripples going and going. Finally, he ran out of pebbles, and the water calmed again. 

He noticed some stars in the pool – or maybe they were fireflies. He looked up. The dark purple sky was dotted with a million sparkles. He decided he had better go home. Straddling the fallen log, he scooted across the creek. Grabbing his shoes, he huffed up the steep hill, across the pasture, and under the fence. He burst through the back door. 

His mom looked up from doing dishes. “There you are! Do you know what time it is?”

Sammy shrugged. “I forget all about time when I play outside for a while.

~ ~ ~

Find this story and others in 

A Bag of Bubble Gum,

a Country Store Collection 

for little folk. 

You can find this book at

Amazon.com

and

Full Sail Books.

Friday Fiction - Bricks and Bubbles

It's Friday already! 

Here is a story that I wrote for the Faithwriter Weekly Challenge for the topic "Bridge." It will be featured in the next book of the Country Store Collections, A BARREL OF PICKLES - stories and poems for teens.

BRICKS AND BUBBLES 

I’m not speaking to you anymore! What kind of friend are you…not calling me on my birthday?

I’m going to build a wall. I don’t even want to look at you.

Slap, Thunk

You probably were talking about me with your other friends.

Slap, Thunk

You can keep your stupid, ugly friends!

Slap, Thunk

Hey…what do think you’re doing? That’s a stupid looking wall.
Well, mine is going to be bigger and taller than yours.

Slap, Thunk

What are you using anyway? Your wall looks shimmery and shiny. Those are dumb looking bricks. Do you want one of mine? They are hard and strong and with sharp corners.

Whizzzzz . . . Scrape

Did that feel good? Well, that’s how I felt. Why don’t you say anything, instead of kneeling among those silly things and crying? Don’t you care that I’m mad at you?

Slap, Thunk

Hey . . . yours is leaning. Get away from my wall. Go away! Leave me alone!

Whizzzzz . . . Boing

Hey…my brick bounced off your wall, didn’t even make a dent. I’ll show you; I’m going to build mine to the sky, so I never have to talk to you ever again!

Slap, Thunk, Slap, Thunk

How’d you get above me? Is SomeOne helping you? Hey…your wall is tipping over on me!

Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop

Your bubbly bricks are popping on mine. They’re dissolving my wall! What kind of powerful solution is in those bubbles?

Hmmmm . . . this one has some words on it: I AM SORRY

Hmph! What’s this one say? SMILE, I LOVE YOU

YOU ARE MY FRIEND

REMEMBER WHEN WE MADE LICORICE JELLYBEAN COOKIES?

I MISS YOU

WILL YOU COME OVER FOR A GAME OF SCRABBLE?

Sigh…

There’s not much left of my wall. Yours has bent right over it and bridged the gap.
I miss you, too. I’ll be over soon . . . on the new pathway between us.

To see my other books, (CLICK HERE)