Thursday, March 17, 2011
Snowdrops ~ A Saint Patrick's Day story
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Quilldancing Assignment #3
Quilly had this posted on her blog on March 6, 2011:
Your Writing Assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to write a complete story in 500 words or less using the scenario below to kick-start your thinking. Publish your story on your blog March 15th, then come back here (to her blog) and link it to my March 15th story.
The photo below reveals the main character of your story. Your tale must also include a 4 leaf clover and a golden key.
Snowdrops
Betsy was up to her ears in white snowdrops. These little flowers were early this year and were getting in Betsy’s way. Betsy had been looking this day for four-leaf clovers. But now these darned snowdrops, well, they were confounding the issue. You see Betsy had stayed home ‘sick’ from kindergarten today.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like school, just that the other kids would tease her especially hard on St. Patrick’s Day for not being Irish. Irish was in, definitely. Didn’t they declare an Irish holiday for the old gentleman? After all he did scare all the snakes away.
So they say, thought Betsy. Grandmum would agree with her had she lived to hear it. Poor Grandmum. Somebody whacked her good whilst she was bringing in peat for the cook stove. Whacked her good and stabbed her with a paper knife.
It was barely six weeks since Grandmum had gotten killed and Mum was worried silly whenever Betsy went out to play. “Always tell us when you go,” she would say, “and don’t go out of the yard.” Fiddlesticks! There wasn’t any fun in the yard.
Now who in the world is this coming out here? Mum always said don’t talk to strangers. I hope they don’t want to talk. I’ll hunker down a bit and hide over behind this stump.
“Hey you. Kid,” hollered the one with the hairy eyebrows and ear lobes, “come over here.”
“Mum says for me not to talk with strangers,” Betsy replied meekly in her shaky little voice, “and you look strange to me.”
“Peanut, you come over here,” commanded the one with the crooked nose. “Who you calling strange, you Brit little silly? Just a tiddler should shut his mouth about being strange.”
Betsy knew in an instant that these blokes were up to no good. Calling her a boy made no sense. “Run, run fast,” entered her mind. That was what Father would yell she knew. Both men were chasing her now, each with a paper knife raised to strike! Betsy ran faster!
The bloke with hairy ears threw his knife. It sailed past Betsey’s shoulder. That was a close shave! Wow! Then she stumbled. Her left foot got tangled in a string. Strange! Was everything strange today?
Betsy found herself falling into a hole. Not the rabbit hole like Alice found. Just a deep hole. Out of sight in the hole, Betsy unraveled the string. Yikes! This might be her lucky day! A gold key at the end of the string. But then, …
That the key had been her grandmum’s was her fortune today. The crooked nose fellow had thrown the string. Grandmum’s key was on it! With those guys in jail now, and the chest to unlock, Betsy was on High Street!
Better yet! Inside the chest was Grandmum’s four-leaf clover. “This is my lucky day after all,” she sighed. And smiled. She would be a hero in school tomorrow. Thank you lucky snowdrops.
- - - - - - - -
Snowdrop Placard Photo and Story Copyright
© 2011 Jimmiehov -- All Rights Reserved
Quilldancing Assignment #3Quilly had this posted on her blog on March 6, 2011:
Your Writing Assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to write a complete story in 500 words or less using the scenario below to kick-start your thinking. Publish your story on your blog March 15th, then come back here (to her blog) and link it to my March 15th story.
The photo below reveals the main character of your story. Your tale must also include a 4 leaf clover and a golden key.
(My entry weighs in at 498 words but is posted two days late on St. Patrick's Day.)
SnowdropsBetsy was up to her ears in white snowdrops. These little flowers were early this year and were getting in Betsy’s way. Betsy had been looking this day for four-leaf clovers. But now these darned snowdrops, well, they were confounding the issue. You see Betsy had stayed home ‘sick’ from kindergarten today.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like school, just that the other kids would tease her especially hard on St. Patrick’s Day for not being Irish. Irish was in, definitely. Didn’t they declare an Irish holiday for the old gentleman? After all he did scare all the snakes away.
So they say, thought Betsy. Grandmum would agree with her had she lived to hear it. Poor Grandmum. Somebody whacked her good whilst she was bringing in peat for the cook stove. Whacked her good and stabbed her with a paper knife.
It was barely six weeks since Grandmum had gotten killed and Mum was worried silly whenever Betsy went out to play. “Always tell us when you go,” she would say, “and don’t go out of the yard.” Fiddlesticks! There wasn’t any fun in the yard.
Now who in the world is this coming out here? Mum always said don’t talk to strangers. I hope they don’t want to talk. I’ll hunker down a bit and hide over behind this stump.
“Hey you. Kid,” hollered the one with the hairy eyebrows and ear lobes, “come over here.”
“Mum says for me not to talk with strangers,” Betsy replied meekly in her shaky little voice, “and you look strange to me.”
“Peanut, you come over here,” commanded the one with the crooked nose. “Who you calling strange, you Brit little silly? Just a tiddler should shut his mouth about being strange.”
Betsy knew in an instant that these blokes were up to no good. Calling her a boy made no sense. “Run, run fast,” entered her mind. That was what Father would yell she knew. Both men were chasing her now, each with a paper knife raised to strike! Betsy ran faster!
The bloke with hairy ears threw his knife. It sailed past Betsey’s shoulder. That was a close shave! Wow! Then she stumbled. Her left foot got tangled in a string. Strange! Was everything strange today?
Betsy found herself falling into a hole. Not the rabbit hole like Alice found. Just a deep hole. Out of sight in the hole, Betsy unraveled the string. Yikes! This might be her lucky day! A gold key at the end of the string. But then, …
That the key had been her grandmum’s was her fortune today. The crooked nose fellow had thrown the string. Grandmum’s key was on it! With those guys in jail now, and the chest to unlock, Betsy was on High Street!
Better yet! Inside the chest was Grandmum’s four-leaf clover. “This is my lucky day after all,” she sighed. And smiled. She would be a hero in school tomorrow. Thank you lucky snowdrops.
- - - - - - - -
Snowdrop Placard Photo and Story Copyright
© 2011 Jimmiehov -- All Rights Reserved
Labels: Days, Holiday Posts, Quill-Dancing, St Patrick's Day, Stories
Comments:
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I am not quite certain how the men got caught? Did I miss something? Other than that I enjoyed the story. One thing that truly made me laugh was when you said the girl isn't Irish, because the wee lass in the photo most certainly is! LOL! She is the daughter of Susan from http://www.stonyriver.ie/
Good question, Quilly. I decided that since this part of HOW THEY GOT CAUGHT wouldn't add much to this short story we could all just be happy that Betsy was rescued and the bad guys were caught.
The grandmum's golden key in their possession before being thrown at Betsy was the link to Grandmum's death. M.O. of the bad guys with their paper knives (British for letter openers) will also help in their prosecution.
500 words go by very quickly.
Glad to know the my Betsy is blogger "family." She is a pretty girl. Susan is a lucky Mum. I wondered if she might be an Irish lass.
..
The grandmum's golden key in their possession before being thrown at Betsy was the link to Grandmum's death. M.O. of the bad guys with their paper knives (British for letter openers) will also help in their prosecution.
500 words go by very quickly.
Glad to know the my Betsy is blogger "family." She is a pretty girl. Susan is a lucky Mum. I wondered if she might be an Irish lass.
..
What a lovely photo and intriguing story Jim!
Happy St. Patrick's Day to you. Wishing you a very lucky day! G
www.takeahappybreak.com
Happy St. Patrick's Day to you. Wishing you a very lucky day! G
www.takeahappybreak.com
Susan isn't Irish. She is from (and currently resides in) West Virginia, but she married an Irish boy and lived there for many years, now they live in WV.
Having no talent for writing stories, I surely admire one who can do so with such ease. What caught my attention is the clover bouquet. Having Irish Shamrocks growing I decided to investigate. Seems there is disinformation galore. My post of yesterday gives some proof the plants are unalike in several ways; see here;http://www.musingsbythecreekside.blogspot.com Clover is a favorite plant of mine, a healing medium, and some call a Weed.
Thanks Jim. But how do I fix it/picture. Your link I put up also isn't clickable either.
Ha, I'm no better with blogging than writing a story.
Ha, I'm no better with blogging than writing a story.
HATE to admit it, but your very (very, very, very) gory story was fabulous...until, that is, you ran low on your word count and had to spit out your ending.
I felt Betsy's every thought and emotion. It's uncanny how realistically you portrayed them.
I felt Betsy's every thought and emotion. It's uncanny how realistically you portrayed them.
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: Sat Mar 19, 10:30:00 PM 2011
: Sat Mar 19, 10:30:00 PM 2011<< Home
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