Friday Fiction -

Today I have the privilege to host 

Friday Fiction.

A group of writers posts their stories on their web sites

and link them together, so that you can enjoy a whole

bundle of interesting stories. 

If you wish to join us,

add the link to your web site or blog 

to the Linky at the bottom of my post. 

Enjoy!

I love allegories. 

This is a short one based on the story of David and Goliath.

(I Samuel 17)

It is aslo available as an e-book at both

SmashWords 

Full Sail Books.

Peeper and the Great Hawkins

“Why is everyone still huddled in the chicken coop this morning?” asked Peeper as he stretched his scrawny wings and legs.

“Haven’t you seen him?” quavered his brother. “He’s the biggest crow I’ve ever seen!”

“I don’t think he is a crow,” exclaimed another. “He looks more like a vulture to me!”

A loud ruckus of caws and squawks drew Peeper to the door. A menacing flock of crows lined the pasture fence, with a huge black bird claiming the center post. His wing feathers shimmered in the morning sun, his hooked beak opened and closed, and his sharp talons scratched deep scars in the wood.

Just as Peeper stepped back into the safety of the coop, the large bird’s voice screeched through the air. “Who will fight me, the Great Hawkins of the High Hills? If you win, you may have your freedom; but if I win, we will claim these yards and fields for ourselves. You’re all afraid of me. You are nothing but chickens!”

Peeper looked at his brothers and the other cocks cowering in the shadows. “Isn’t anyone going to fight for our farm?”

“He’ll slaughter us! Didn’t you see that beak and those talons and those big wings?”

“I’m not afraid! This is Farmer Goodly’s farm. He will not fail us.” Peeper turned to face the enemy.

“You can’t go; you’re just a chick! You still have downy feathers beneath your chin!”

“I’ve scared away a squirrel and a rat. I’m not afraid!”

The young bird puffed up his chest and held his neck high, and began marching across the barnyard toward the Great Hawkins of the High Hills.

The crows laughed and chuckled among themselves at the ridiculous sight, and Hawkins scowled with an angry gleam. He opened his yellow beak and bellowed, “Am I a mouse, that you send this nestling to me? I’ll tear him from gizzard to tail feathers!”

“I come to you without fear, for I belong to Farmer Goodly.”

With that, the brave young cock lowered his head and spread his wings and ran toward the big, black bully. He cheeped with all his might and kicked up dust with his tiny claws. Just as he was within a few feet of the giant bird, a great explosion shattered the air.
KABOOM! The crows scattered away in fear, and nothing was left of the Great Hawkins but a pile of shredded feathers.

Peeper looked about him in amazement to see a pair of boots on either side of him. He looked up and up and up, until he looked into the kind face of his wonderful Farmer Goodly.

~ ~ ~

If you wish to join us, add your link here, or just hop from site to site reading some great stories.

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)

Br..r..r..r Chilly Morning!

It's a cold morning, but that's how it is in April if you live in Ontario, Canada. That's where Zeke is this morning. He's visiting Christina Banks's Writing Blog . I hope he brought his warm mittens that Granny knitted for him.

Christina is a fellow writer who has traveled along with me for a while.

First at Christian Writers Guild 

(where she has just been accepted into their Craftsman Course),

 then at Faithwriters. ( a great group of writers) 

I should have hopped on Zeke's wagon, because I've yet to see Christina in person. I know we'd have lots to talk about - music, children, and writing, of course.

Don't forget to leave a comment on her blog

 or my Facebook page for a chance at signed copy of

A Home for Phoebe. 

 You can purchase A Home for Phoebe

 at Amazon.com  

at Full Sail Books 

or directly from me.

18th of April in '75

Longfellow wrote a memorial poem of that night, teaching generations about Paul Revere alerting the Minutemen that the British were coming. "Paul's Revere's Ride"

I thought of how the wives and families might have been effected by the Revolutionary War. They were as much soldiers as the men. They had to do their part by keeping things going smoothly at home while they waited and prayed for their loved ones fighting for freedom. It doesn't matter the era - women still are waiting and praying for their men to come home.

Here is the first few lines of a poem from a wife's point of view-

HOMEFRONT 

Quietly waiting, restlessness

Silently praying, sleeplessness

Moon on the window, glistening

Slowly breathing, listening

A gallop on stones, a shout in the night!

A cry of a child, a call to fight.

A candle lit, a boot stamped in place,

A bag of vittles, a tender embrace

“Hurry, hurry!  but we’ll miss you so.

“Here are your things.” Do you have to go?

A peek at the babe, in sleepful bliss,

The horse is saddled, one last kiss . . . 

(CLICK HERE)

to buy the whole ebook

(only $1)

Today is a "When Day"

Sometimes when a project seems to be taking

forever, you may find yourself saying, "IF I ever finish . . ."

 I've been working on Phoebe's story for almost 40 years! I created her character in a creative writing class during my senior year of high school. Then the blessings of life happened - love, marriage, children - and all that it includes. But the story of Phoebe was always there in the back of my mind. I'd work on the plot in my mind and sometimes scribbles some thoughts in a spiral notebook.

It wasn't until my children were grown that I got serious about finishing Phoebe's story. I entered my novel in the Christian Writers Guild novel contest and fell flat on my face. I knew I needed to learn more about the art of writing. I signed up for the Journeyman Course and joined the Christian Writers Forum. Then I found Faithwriters, which challenged me and sharpened my writing even more. I attended writing conferences and made dozens of new friends who understood me and pushed me higher.

With each step, I stretched and grew and learned more about the world of being published. I looked for an agent and found one that helped me see that my Phoebe story needed more work. I was getting discouraged. I wanted to give up. I began saying, "IF I ever publish my book."

I have a friend who would stop me and say,

 "No . . . WHEN you publish . . ."

I'd smile and say, "WHEN I publish . . ."

She never let me give up.

I re-worked my story. I tightened it and found someone who could give it a thorough editing. . . and I re-worked it and edited it again.

Just when I'd wanted to give up - to lock it away in a box and chalk the whole thing up to experience -  God would send someone else along who would ask, "WHEN are you going to publish your Phoebe book?"

(I wish Evelyn Bryant could have seen the finished novel.)

There was that word again. - "WHEN"

Another writer friend encouraged me to self-publish, retaining my rights to continue developing other books and products to accompany my novel. (I have plenty of ideas - sequels and easy-reader books and study guides and crafts and . . . so much more! ) I didn't want to lose my story to a contract that would stifle my ideas. I was also tired of searching for an agent or publisher who didn't insist that I change my book to fit their mold. It was time for Phoebe to be introduced to the world. So . . . I proofed it and polished it and formatted it and polished it some more . . . until - VOILA' !

Today is my "WHEN" DAY.

Today is Phoebe's WHEN DAY.

It has finally happened!

You can get a signed copy of A Home for Phoebe

from Full Sail Books
or EMAIL me.

You can also purchase it at Amazon.com .

Friday Fiction - "The Giant Green Blob"

This is for all the kids (and teachers)

that wait for school cancellations on a snowy day.

THE GIANT GREEN BLOB

“Timothy! Jessica! Michael! It’s six o’clock—time to get up!” Mom’s voice spirals up the staircase like smoke up the chimney this cold morning. Frosty feathers decorate the window panes, and noses snuggle farther under the blankets. “Don’t make me come up there!”


She sips her coffee and waits for a thump, then a squeal. “It’s snowing!” A stampede of footsteps rumbles across the ceiling. “Cool! Awesome!” Like a herd of buffalo, they thunder down the stairs. “Have they called off school yet?”

“Not yet…and until they do, you need to act as if there IS school and get ready.”

“Ahhhh…”

The children warm their backsides before the woodstove, turning around to toast their fingers and noses for awhile. Jessica pulls the collar of her fuzzy pink bathrobe around her neck. Timothy’s socks flop beyond his toes as he dances from one foot to another. Michael stirs some cocoa into his mug of hot water and saunters into the living room. He sprawls across the couch, his long legs dangling over the end.

“Mom! Michael’s hogging the whole couch!”

The teen mutters and scoots over. He thumbs the remote, surfing the channels until he finds the local news. Timothy curls up next to him. Jessica claims the recliner for herself. The windows rattle and whistle with a blast of wind. The boys tussle beneath the fleece blanket, pulling it back and forth to cover their shivering shoulders.

“A low front is traveling up the coast. High winds, up to 70 mile per hour, are expected.” On the screen, a map appears with giant green blob oozing toward their area. The weather man traces the path of the storm with his marker. “Much of the state will be blanketed with snow, causing major power outages.”

As if on cue, the lights flicker, and three voices gasp. Jessica pauses in mid-text to her BFF Cindy. The television blinks off and no one moves—all frozen in anticipation. Finally with a snap and buzz, the screen revives. They sigh with relief, only because a day without power would be totally boring. Jessica punches in another text to Cindy.

Mom smears peanut butter on slices of bread and looks at her watch. “It’s six thirty. Jessica, if you’re going to take a shower, you better get in there now.”

“It’s too cold, Mom. My hair will freeze and break off like icicles.”

“I don’t think so—not if you get in now, so it will have time to dry.”

Jessica pads off to the bathroom in her stocking feet, texting as she shuffles down the hallway. Timothy scampers into the kitchen for a bowl of Sugar Squares. Michael smiles and gathers the blanket all to himself.

“Mom! Michael’s hogging the blanket!”

“Shhh…stop being such a baby!” He lifts one edge for Timothy to slide under.

After the results of the lottery game and a few car commercials, the weatherman returns with his blobby map. This time the green blob covers most of the screen.

“There are storm warnings for most of the state today. Police recommend only necessary travel on the highways. The airport reports that many flights are being cancelled or delayed. Watch for school cancellations at the bottom of your screen.”

Timothy tugs on his brother’s arm. “I can’t read it, Michael. It’s going too fast. Tell what schools are closing.”

Michael groans and reads the scrolling words. “Clifton, Dansport, Fairfield, Farnsworth, Gilford, Grange…”

“Where’s our school?”

“We’re not till the end of the alphabet. I’ll tell you if it comes up.”

Mom lays a pile of clothes on a chair. “Timothy, I want you to get dressed.”

He takes off his pajama shirt in slow motion as he stares at the pink bunny energizing a space ship. He pauses with one leg in his pants as he watches a car zoom through fields of flowers waving their arms. The news returns with the town names sliding across the bottom.

“Michael, is it near our school yet? What’s it say?”

“Pittsfield, Preston, Richmont, Rockland, … SEARSTOWN!"

Timothy throws his sneakers in the air. “Yay! NO SCHOOL!!!” He gallops around the house. “I’m going outside to make a snow fort.”

Jessica emerges from the bathroom, with a towel around her head and her phone to her ear. “Cindy, did you hear? Isn’t that so cool? Whatcha doing today?”

Michael slumps off the couch. “I’m going back to bed.”

Mom sighs. “I think I need another cup of coffee.”

~ ~ ~

For more Christmas/wintery stories,

see my latest edtion of the

Country Store Collections

A BOX OF CHRISTMAS CANDY

Preview Poem

IS IT TIME YET?

“In the beginning . . .”

God promised a Savior,

To redeem this sinful world,

From its wicked behavior.

“All nations shall be blessed…”

Through the seed of Abraham,

The Messiah will someday come;

'Twas God’s perfect plan.

Almighty God, “I AM”

Did set His people free,

His angel of Death passed over;

He separated the sea.

“Be strong, and of good courage!”

The cry rang out that day.

“This is the land God promised you;

Trust in His strength; obey.”

“Thy throne shall be forever,”

To King David, it was said.

An everlasting kingdom,

In peaceful pastures led.

“Bethlehem, Ephratah,

Out of thee shall come . . .”

This simple little village

Would bring the Promised One.

“And the days were accomplished . . .”

The time was drawing near,

Son of Man and Son of God

Heavenly hosts prepared to cheer.

“Unto you is born this day . . . ”

The choir of angels sang,

“Glory to the newborn King!”

The rafters of heaven rang.

“A light to lighten the Gentiles,

A glory to Israel.”

The spotless Lamb of God,

His wondrous plan revealed.

“Today thou shalt be in Paradise,”

“It is finished!” he cried.

They knew not what they did,

The Messiah was crucified.

“That hour knoweth no man”

When the trumpet will sound.

A triumphant call to His own,

In whose heart, He is found.

“The Alpha and Omega,

The beginning and the end.”

Our King, our Lord, our Savior,

To Thee our knees we bend.

~

Find this poem and others,
along with many Christmas short stories,
 in

A BOX OF CHRISTMAS CANDY

coming very soon to

Full Sail Books
Amazon

A California Novel

 Listen to the interview with Steve Stroble. 

Get your own free ebook of Fool's Gold 

- an historical novel of the Gold Rush days.

Friday Fiction - (a riddle story)

Is it Friday already? I have the privilege of hosting Friday Fiction today. If you have a story that you'd like to add to our meme, post it on your blog or webpage. Then add your link at the bottom of this page, and let the fun begin. Even if you don't have a story to post, enjoy hopping from blog to blog reading all the other great stories. 

This story was written for a Faithwriter's Challenge (for the topic- "Our Mutual Friend"). It is about three friends on a little island and how they work out a disagreement. The words are part of a riddle. Can you figure out what they are supposed to represent? 

Ryan, Percy, and Jonathan Lee

Once upon a time on a tiny island in the middle of the clear blue sea, there lived three friends: Ryan Wheeter, 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 Wheeter 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 Wheeter 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 Wheeter 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 Wheeter 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." 

~ ~ ~

 To find more of my writing, go to Full Sail Books where tomorrow (June 2)
 I am offering a free download of my newest e-book, "HOMEFRONT."

Soldiers on the Homefront

In every war, there are soldiers at home - 

 the mothers, the wives, the children. 

This book is focuses on the wife and family of a Minuteman during the Revolutionary War, but it is really about all wives of all times who must be strong and carry on at home.

Free download for 24 hrs on Saturday, June2,

at Full Sail Books 

Listen to the interview

Listen to internet radio with gretchenricker on Blog Talk Radio

 

Happy Leap Year Day!

(excerpt from "Ending of a Special Day")

There's something special about today.

Every four years is Leap Year Day.

The earth makes a circle around the sun.

It takes a year before it’s done.

Three hundred and sixty-five days,

Plus six more hours— it's a long ways

We could not have one fourth of a day.

There's not enough time to sleep and play

So every four years, it works out fine

To have a February twenty-nine.

(CLICK HERE)

Free Today

at Full Sail Books

Saturdays are for Kids

Saturdays are when I post the stories written by the

POLLIWOG KIDS

(Click Here)

Don't forget the special deal about

"The Ending of a Special Day"

(FREE)

5 more days

There are more and more books on

Full Sail Books each day.

An Extra Day

Do you know what is special about

the last day of February this year?

It is a catch-up day,

February 29th, Leap Year Day!

I've always felt sorry (and a tinge of jealousy) for those born on this day. They could only celebrate their birthdays every four years, but at the same time, that made them just a little bit more special.

There have been some interesting traditions and folklore centered on this day.

According to English law, February 29th was ignored and had no legal status. Therefore, it was the one day when women could ask someone to marry them. This practice was first documented in 1288, when Scotland passed a law that allowed women to propose marriage to the man of their choice in that year. They also made it law that any man who declined a proposal in a leap year must pay a fine, such as a kiss to money for clothing.



In the comic strip, Li'l Abner, Sadie Hawkins was the daughter of one of Dogpatch's earliest settlers, Hekzebiah Hawkins. The "homeliest gal in all them hills", she grew frantic waiting for suitors to come a-courtin'. When she reached the age of 35, still a spinster, her father was even more frantic—about Sadie living at home for the rest of his life. In desperation, he called together all the unmarried men of Dogpatch and declared it "Sadie Hawkins Day". Specifically, a foot race was decreed, with Sadie in hot pursuit of the town's eligible bachelors—and matrimony as the consequence.

"When ah fires [my gun], all o' yo' kin start a-runnin! When ah fires agin—after givin' yo' a fair start—Sadie starts a runnin'. Th' one she ketches'll be her husbin."

The town spinsters decided that this was such a good idea, they made Sadie Hawkins Day a mandatory yearly event, much to the chagrin of Dogpatch bachelors. In the satirical spirit that drove the strip, many sequences revolved around the dreaded Sadie Hawkins Day race. If a woman caught a bachelor and dragged him, kicking and screaming, across the finish line before sundown—by law he had to marry her! ( Sadie Hawkins Day )

When did you first learn about Leap Year Day?

I was just seven years old, and my father taught me about how the earth travels around the earth. He told me how it takes 365 1/4 of a day. Every four years, we put them together to make a special day. I remember thinking that I wish I had learned it that morning, so I could have enjoyed the special day that only happens every four years.

I have written a e-book for children

based on my childhood experience.

(CLICK HERE)

It is only $1.00 for the month of February,

sold at Full Sail Books.

(This will have to cover two letters,

D and E, for the A2Z Take 2)