Showing posts with label Writing challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing challenge. Show all posts

Thursday, June 1, 2017

Imagine This #9 ~ entries

Hello everyone! And a lovely Thursday night to you stalkers readers! I'm finally here with the entries from the recent Imagine This challenge. Gahhh, they're all SO. GOOD. Judging was nigh impossible (when is it not?), but I managed...sorta. 

I'm considering just cutting the judging part next time? And just posting the entries? Any thoughts/opinions/suggestions on that? 

To all participants, thank you so much for entering! All the entries were so beautiful and amazing and I loved them each and every one. I smiled, I cried, I felt all warm and happy, and bittersweet and achy inside. *nods* Y'all are all amazing writer people, okay? <3 





First Place ~ Kaitlyn Krispense


The day had finally come: Jonas was leaving.  My heart ached as we drove to the airport.  It seemed so natural, the three of us together.  As if it would go on like this forever.  I glanced into the backseat where I could just see our daughter’s head over the back of her carseat.  She was such a contented, happy baby.  She looked just like her father, with her bright blue eyes and brown hair.  
When I faced forward again, my eyes misted over, and I blinked rapidly to keep my tears at bay.  It was certainly a good thing that Jonas was the one driving; I probably would’ve had us in a ditch by now.
“Miss me already?” He took his eyes off the road for a moment to smile softly at me.  
I pressed my lips tightly together.  He knew the answer, and to speak would only make me cry.  My father, being a salesman, often traveled, leaving my mom, three siblings, and I at home.  Each time we took him to the airport, Mom would hold his hand, caress it, and say, “I miss you already.”
I sometimes wondered what she meant.  How could you miss someone when they were right there with you?  And now… I sniffed.  I knew exactly how my mother felt.
But Jonas wasn’t going to be gone for just a few days like my father was.  He was going to be gone for months.  And only God knew if I’d ever get to see him again.
We pulled into the airport.  It was a mess of people rushing around, cars coming and going, planes taking off and landing. Jonas is leaving, I thought, and the world goes on.  They don’t care what he’s doing.  God, why does he have to leave?  He’s just one of the many soldiers that will be forgotten to all but those who love him.  He’s going to fight for all these people, yet they won’t give him so much as a second glance.  I don’t know if I can give him up; make me strong, Lord.
Once Jonas had parked the car, I stepped out and opened the rear door while Jonas grabbed his things from the trunk.  I reached in and unbuckled the carseat, then pulled it out.  Maria stared up at me, her serious face reminding me all the more of how much like her father she was.
“I’ll take her.” He held out one arm, the other laden with his luggage.
I hesitated.  “Are you sure?  You’ve already got your luggage and—”
“Laura.”  His quiet voice interrupted me.  “Please.  I want to hold her as much as I can.”  
I saw it in his eyes: agony.  He missed us already too.  Oh God, will there ever be peace?  Will there ever be a time when husbands, sons and brothers aren’t taken away from home?  I swallowed against the tears.  It didn’t work.  As we walked into the building, my face was wet and my eyes burned from the salt.
“Let’s say goodbye here.”  He stopped and set his luggage and Maria down.  “Goodbyes are bad enough, and I sure don’t want to look back after I’ve cleared security and see the barrier between us.”
I nodded and took a deep breath, willing my tears to recede back to from wherever they had come.  It worked… until I looked into his face.
“Laura…”  He licked his lips.  “I—” his voice broke and he pulled me into his arms.  I broke down and sobbed, clinging to the front of his shirt.  
Finally I pulled away, sniffing.  “I’m getting your shirt all wet.”
He smiled slightly.  “I’m gonna miss you.”
“Not as much as I’m going to miss you.”
He pulled my face forward and our lips met.  I shut my eyes tightly, but several tears leaked out anyway.  Would this be the last time he would ever kiss me?
Finally the moment ended.  He turned and pulled Maria from the carseat.  He held her gently in his arms, cradling her head in his hands.  He stared at he intently, as if memorizing her every feature.  He’s such an amazing father.
He dipped his head and planted a kiss on the top of her head.  It was then that I saw the solitary tear make its way down his pain-filled face.  He’s hurting just as much as I am.
“Let’s pray.”  He positioned Maria in one arm, slipping his other around my waist and pulling me close.  Together we bowed our heads as he prayed aloud in a husky voice, “God, we know You’ve called me overseas.  Be with Laura and Maria.  Lord, be my little girl’s daddy while I’m away.” his voice broke, then he continued after a moment, “Comfort Laura, and help her to be the mother You made her to be.  In Your name… amen.”
He gingerly handed Maria over to me, and kissed us both, then backed away.  I watched him go until he disappeared in the crowd, then turned, placed Maria back in the carseat, and began to walk toward the big glass double-doors.  A sob tore through me, then another. My steps quickened; I wanted to get out there as quickly as possible.
“Laura!”  I heard his voice calling me, and I pivoted.  There he was, towering above the crowd.  He must have climbed atop a bench.  Normally, being the quiet, shy guy that he is, he wouldn’t do anything to attract attention to himself.  But now, I don’t think he cared.  I saw him take a deep breath.  “I love you!” his voice rang out.  
I pressed a shaking hand to my lips, then held it out to him.  He did the same. Our eyes locked, and in that moment I knew that, whatever happened, with God’s help, we would be okay.



Second Place ~ Jesseca Dawn, "If I Return" 


 The airport was crowded, filled with the usual hustle and bustle. People were hurrying from one place to another, running to catch a flight, or walking quickly past the chairs of people waiting, as if trying their best to avoid human contact.  
But tucked away behind the chaos, a different scene unfolded. 
He sat there, bag on the floor by his feet, cap on the chair beside him, and his uniform jacket settling across his shoulders. 
His wife was beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other gripping his elbow. As if, somehow, holding to him in such a way could--or would--make him stay. 
Dayton felt her hold on him and swallowed hard. He knew his leaving was difficult for her. God, did my tour have to come now?  It was the same question he had been asking for days. She had been through so much. How would she handle this on top of it all? 
His eyes dropped to the small child he held in his hands.  A feeling of wonder and awe washed over him yet again. She was so small, this baby. Not yet a month old. But she was flawless. Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she slept, and her hands balled into fists.
Such tiny hands. 
Yet, so perfect. 
It had been God working, bringing the baby into his life. Dayton had been at the right place at the right time. Though, he hadn't realized it then. The walk around the neighborhood hadn’t meant to end at the abortion clinic. But that’s where his feet had taken him. And that was where he’d met her as she stood outside, waiting for her appointment. And he’d been able to talk her out of it. 
Moving the baby to the crook of his elbow, Dayton took his right hand and draped it over his wife’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”
She only nodded and rested her head on his shoulder.
He ached for her. Ached for what she had gone through. For what she was going through. It hadn’t been her fault. She had been taken advantage of, and then left behind. Alone and scared, she had nowhere to turn, and a baby would only have added to her problems. 
But somehow, God had been able to use him to convince her to keep the child. 
The one thing he hadn’t reckoned on was her falling in love with the Saviour . . . and then he falling in love with her. 
Dayton looked again at the baby in his arms. Little Grace was proof that God could bring beauty out of anything. And that He was orchestrating every life to work as a part of His plan. Every time he looked at the little girl that now belonged to him, a strange mixture of love and fear overwhelmed him. Love for this child who wasn’t his. Fear that he would never be the father she needed. 
“Flight twenty-seven, en-route to Houston, boarding now.” 
The voice of the attendant sounded on the loudspeaker. 
That was his flight. He checked his watch. Still twenty minutes until the gates closed. 
“I love you, Dayton.” 
Leslie’s voice sounded close to his ear and he turned and brushed her lips with his. “I love you, too, Les.” 
The seconds stretched into minutes as the little family sat there, oblivious to the world around them. Dayton tried to relish that last few minutes he would have with the two people he loved most in the world. 
The bundle that had nestled into the crook of his left arm stirred, and then settled back into the land of dreams. His gaze fell on her again.  Grace, if God wills and I return, I promise I’ll do the best I can to be a good daddy to you.
The thought was a sobering one. Most men weren’t fathers only two months after they were married. He knew his situation was unique. But that was okay.
“Final boarding call to Houston.” 
This time, Dayton knew he couldn’t stall any longer. He stood and handed the baby back to Leslie while he swung on his bag and slapped his cap on his head. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned back to his wife. 
She stood there, almost a head shorter then him. So small. So fragile. Would she be okay without him here to help her? To protect her? 
Trust Me. 
The still, small voice whispered through his worries, bring them to rest at the feet of Jesus. 
Yes, he would trust. God would have to be strong for her when he couldn’t. 
Forcing a smile on his face, Dayton  enfolded her in a hug, baby and all. “Don’t be worryin’ about me, Les. God’s got us both in His hands.”
He felt her nod against his chest. “I know.”
Stepping back, he reached his hands out for Grace. He wanted to hold her one last time. She opened her eyes and yawned as she changed hands once again, and he grinned. This little girl had him wrapped around her finger. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. 
The attendant motioned for him to hurry, and he reluctantly handed the baby back. Then, he drew Les toward him and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you again, sweetheart. I promise.” The ache he felt at leaving her behind was almost physical. And, oh, it hurt!
Before she could reply, he started toward the gate, blinking hard to keep the tears at bay. 
“Dayton.”
Les’ quiet voice stopped him, and he turned. 
She stood there, her brown hair falling softly around her waist, and Grace sleeping on her shoulder. “Thank you.”
He cocked his head, wondering what she could mean. “For what?”
“For wanting us.”  Her words were quiet, but he heard. And it took every ounce of strength to keep from turning and holding her tight. 
So he only smiled past the tears that gathered in his eyes. “Of course I want you. I love you with all that is in me.” The last sentence came out in a whisper, and thankfully the attendant seemed to have given him a break. Her own eyes were glossy with unshed tears. 
As he walked past her to board the plane, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for your service.” 
He cleared his throat and nodded. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”
It was all he could manage. 
Stepping off the ramp into the plane, he took a deep breath. God would take care of Les. And his little miracle baby would be there waiting for him to love. 
If he returned. 



Third Place ~ Micaiah K. "Coming Home" 


He’s coming home today.

My heart flutters inside my chest as I pull into the airport parking lot. Easily finding an empty space, I put the car in park and eye the rearview mirror, seeing my four-month-old baby girl sleeping in her car seat. She’s leaned up against the cushion, white, flowered onesie lopsided, hair and headband in disarray from her position. A smile creeps across my face and I have to blink tears away. Noah has never seen her. He’s never gotten to hold her, or make her laugh, or see her smile.

But he will soon. He’s almost home.

I nearly rip my seatbelt from the latch and swing the door open. Emma begins shifting when I open her door, then scrunching her small nose, and, after a moment, sleepily opening her bright blue eyes to stare up at me. “Hey, Emma! You woke up,” I say, reaching inside the car to brush at the wisps of light brown hair covering her head and rearrange her headband. I take a second to look at her, realizing for the umpteenth time how much she resembles my husband. I finagle my way under the car seat handle and press a kiss to her forehead, grabbing the diaper bag off the floor and dropping it over my neck and shoulder. Unlatching the car seat from its base, I tuck my left arm under the handle. The door shuts with a click and I’m hurrying across the parking lot, eager to be inside and wait with Noah’s family.

The front entrance slides open automatically at my movement and I step through, immediately enveloped in cold air and the rush of people. I bite my lip and study my surroundings, hoping I’ll be able to find the Kohls in this menagerie of suitcases and moving bodies.

“Amelia, dear!”

I turn at the sound of my mother-in-law’s voice. Her hand is waving in the air frantically, and I start that way, dodging rolling bags with hurried people at their handles, somehow ending up in her arms. She hugs me tightly before pulling back and smiling. “He should be here soon,” she says.

I nod and press her hand, words clogging in my throat. Thank you, Father. Thank you so much.
A moment later I’m in the midst of the whole family, Mr. Kohl greeting me with a small nod. 

And then we’re waiting. Ten minutes tick by, but it feels like hours. I set Emma’s car seat on a nearby bench, keeping my hand on it and peeking underneath to see her sleeping again.

Another ten minutes. I’m suddenly nervous and ask Mrs. Kohl to stand by Emma while I go check on the flight. She agrees with a soft tilt to her lips, and I realize she understands how I feel.

Just a few steps into my quest, I see him. He’s across the room, eyes roving the place, still in his military uniform. And then Noah sees me too, and he begins to walk in my direction, nearly crashing into a few people. He starts jogging, and suddenly I’m running too. It wasn’t very far, so before I can even think he’s wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me so tight I can hardly breathe. I place my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest.

“Amelia,” he says, so quietly I can barely hear him in the cacophony around us. I look up to see tears forming in his blue eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

I laugh and sob all at once, standing on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’ve missed you so much,” I say.

Noah grabs my hand. “Can I see Emma?”
I nod vigorously, grinning beneath my tears. I lead him across the room, where his family waits. They all want to hug him at once, and I laugh as I watch the most exuberant round of greetings I’ve ever seen. 

Mrs. Kohl demands we come over for dinner, and Noah just nods, hugging her a second time and kissing her cheek.

I sit on the bench where the car seat is and unbuckle the straps around Emma’s small abdomen, gently tucking her in my arms. She’s awake now, and happy, though a bit unsure of what’s happening around her. I stand, and Noah steps close to me. His orbs land on our baby girl and light in a way I can’t describe. He reaches out to take her, and he holds her in his large hands, staring at her with amazement etched on his face. Like she’s the only one in the room and he doesn’t want to look away. “Amelia, she’s beautiful,” he says.

I begin nodding again, heart so full I can barely speak. “She is.”

Noah presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’re so beautiful, Emma,” he says softly. “I love you so much.” Her little face scrunches at then her lips form a toothless smile. Noah laughs, a sound I’ve longed to hear so badly in the last year. A moment later he looks up at me, smile so broad I can’t contain my own. “Let’s go home,” he says.

Mrs. Kohl overhears and reiterates her invitation to dinner, and we laughingly assure her we’re coming.

I move to take Emma, but the look on Noah’s face stills me. “Can I do it?” he asks, eyes wide.

I bite my lip as a grin pulls at my cheeks. “Of course you can.”

Noah places Emma in her car seat, so gently it’s like he’s afraid she’ll break if he isn’t too careful. He clicks the straps together and then crooks his arm under the handle. Mr. Kohl grabs Noah’s duffle bag, and we’re walking towards the entrance.

Noah is holding my hand, and he tugs on it, pausing his stepsand mine. He leans over and rests his forehead against mine. “I love you,” he says.

I squeeze his hand. “I love you too.”



Fourth Place ~ Livi Jane 


“Ladies and gentlemen, as we begin our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Please be sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Thank you.”
Twenty-year-old Reid Kohl blinked once to clear his blurred-by-sleep-vision and slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. He yawned and stretched. 
The elderly man in the window seat next to him smiled in his direction. “You slept almost the whole ride,” he observed, using his index finger to push his thin-rimmed glasses further up his nose. “Long deployment?”
Reid snapped his seat belt in place and nodded. “Somethin’ like that,” he said, a Texas twang evident in the young voice. He glanced down at his uniform, brushed it off. He didn't realize the man was still speaking to him until he heard the word “army” spoken. 
“I served back in the sixties, during the Vietnam War.” The elderly man’s silver eyes took on a faraway look. 
“Well, thank you for your service,” Reid acknowledged, offering his hand. “Reid Kohl, by the way.”
The old man took it. “Danny Thompson. And thank you.”
A silence fell between for only several seconds before he spoke again. “You headed home?”
“Yep.” Reid’s young face took on a proud glow. “I’m goin’ meet my daughter. She just turned three weeks old.”
Danny’s smile grew. “Congratulations! Is this your first?”
At the soldier’s excited nod, he smiled. “I thought as much. You look quite young to have a family!”
“Twenty,” Reid told him with a smile. The younger man was almost surprised when the flight attendant’s voice came across the speakers, announcing they had landed.
Reid slung his backpack over one shoulder and eagerly gathered up the rest of his belongings. He followed the rest of the passengers off the plane, now fully awake and anticipating his little family’s welcome. 
He turned to Danny. “It was great chatting with you, Mr. Thompson.”
The old man smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Just Danny. That’s what everybody calls me. And you have a wonderful time with your family. Don’t take any of those moments for granted.” His gravelly voice sounded like he spoke from experience
“I sure won’t,” Reid promised. “Thank you.”
With one final handshake, Reid watched Danny disappear into the sea of people.
It took no time at all to weave his way through the Texas airport. Reid’s heart pounded. He couldn’t wait to see his baby in person. The young soldier picked up his pace.
“Reid!” The shout drew attention from bystanders. A slim, five foot one figure rushed up to meet him.
Reid barely had time to kiss his wife before a tiny body was eased into his arms. He looked down.
"Cora Grace," Jessalyn whispered, tracing a gentle finger down the side of the baby's cheek. "Three weeks old today," she added, although Reid didn't need the information. He had watched each and every minute drag by since he was informed of his daughter's birth. 
His gaze slipped down to the baby. Sure, he had seen her twice over video calls with Jess, but there was something a thousand times more special about seeing her in person, holding the little form in his arms. Reid lifted Cora up, one hand gently bracing her neck and the back of her head. He leaned in probably closer than was necessary, taking in every detail about the infant.
Her nut-brown hair, same color as her daddy's. Those blue eyes, brighter than a happy sky, like her mommy's.
The little turned-up nose and puckered-up lips. It made his heart melt. 
“She's perfect,” he breathed, awestruck at the tiny life before his eyes. 
Cora shifted in her soft, flower-patterned pajamas and stared up at her father, observing him every bit as much as he had been doing to her. 
“Isn't she?” Jess’s voice from next to him directed his focus away from the baby, and he realized he had hardly given his pretty wife a welcome. It has been months since he’d last seen her. She was still gorgeous as ever, with her short, slim figure and long blonde waves. His heart ached at the thought of not having been with her when baby Cora arrived. 
He put one arm round about her shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze. “I love you, J. I missed you so much. I'm so sorry I couldn't be here when--”
“You're here now,” Jessalyn interrupted softly. “That's what matters.” 
She hugged him back; stood on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. 
Reid’s gaze shifted back down to Cora. My little princess. His chest swelled. 
“What do you say we get home?” Reid asked, ready to be away from the crowd, alone with his family. 
Jess nodded, her blonde waves bouncing slightly. The corners of her rosebud-shaped lips turned upward in a smile. “Apache will be ecstatic. He’s missed you, that’s for sure,” she said, referring to their Golden Retriever. She offered to Reid slide Cora back into her arms so he could go search out his luggage, but he quickly decided he could hold the baby and get his luggage at the same time. 
In no time at all, the trio was packed into the family sedan and headed home. 
Reid glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes settling on the carseat carrying his baby. He still could hardly believe he was father.
“Is something wrong?” Jess’s worried voice cut in on his thoughts. She squeezed his hand, which was caressing her own. 
Reid blinked, realizing there were tears in his eyes. “No, no,” he denied. “In fact, something’s right.” He grinned at his wife through the tears. 
“I'm home, and we’re together. Our whole family.”




Hope y'all are having a great week! May recap, coming soon. 
~Faith 

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Imagine This ~ #9

Who else is ready for another Imagine This challenge?! :D I figured it was about time and, since I've been so neglectful of this blog lately *cough*, I needed to post something. And this was pretty quick and easy for me to get up. ;) 


The Rules 
// Write a story based off what you imagine is happening in the picture below. 
// Keep your story around 700-800 words. If it's a little over, that's okay, but please try to stay under 1,000. 
// Send your story to me via the contact form, located at the bottom right of this page. (Or my email address, if you have it. :)) 
// The deadline is Saturday, May 27th and I'll post the entries shortly thereafter. 


--from Pinterest 

I feel like I do a lot of military-related pictures, but this one was just too sweet to pass up. Thanks for suggesting this precious picture goes to Livi Jane!! 


Can't wait to see the sure-to-be amazing entries!! :D 
~Faith

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Imagine This #8 ~ entries

Hello everyone!! Hope y'all are having a blessed week. :) 

Today I'm posting the entries from the recent Imagine This challenge. I received three entries, and they were all AMAZING!! :D Judging was hard, but I finally came up with an ordering that I'm content with based on writing quality and how close the stories match the picture. 

Everyone probably bypassed the intro anyway, so let's get on to the entries. ;) 



First place goes to... Olivia Jane!! :D This story was so dear and heartbreaking! I 'bout cried at that last line... <3 


"Cooper! Pay attention!"
I jerked and glanced over at my commander, who had a scowl wider'n the Mississippi River on his face. 
"Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!" I kept my face blank. 
Commander Philips grunted. "I thought you were fixing that." His dark eyes scanned the ginormous metal excuse for a tank. "You're not here to stand around." 
"Yes, sir," I quickly agreed. 
He nodded once and turned back to his own task. 
Once his back was to me, I heaved a sigh and hopped down from my position on top of the tank. 
As tough and manly as I tried to act around the others, I knew the truth. I was still just nothing more than a mere boy, barely nineteen. And I missed home. 
I missed the gentle voice of my mother and the conversations between myself and my father. I missed the laughter of my younger brothers and sister. I even missed their silly arguments. 
I sighed again. What I wouldn't give to be back on American soil. This war was wretched; no respecter of persons. War was a cloud of death that loomed over each and every one of us soldiers, ready to snatch us up and carry us away at a moment's notice. 
"Something wrong, Coop?"
I gave my comrade a half-glance and waved him off. "I'm 'k, Jack." 
The eighteen-year-old didn't seem to hear my words. Instead, he hoisted himself up atop the tank's treaded wheels. 
"How's it comin'?" Jack wanted to know. I shrugged. 
"It's hard to fix something you know is going to be used to kill others."
Jack flinched at my soft words. He swallowed. "Yeah, well, just you think about how awful those Germans we're shooting at are. Then maybe you won't be so sympathetic."
I glanced up at the young soldier. Although Jack and I met only recently, we had become fast friends. He had barely lost his father and an older brother in this war when he was thrust into the midst of it himself. 
I shook my head. "Jack," I told him, keeping my voice gentle, "they're soldiers, too. Just like us. They're fighting for what they believe in."
"Well," Jack growled in defense, "it's their own fault we're all out here shooting at each other." He hung his head. "I just want to go back home."
I tossed him a half-smile that told I felt the same way. "Me, too." I used the hem of my jacket to rub some dirt away from the piece of metal I was examining. 
"You got kinfolk back home, Louie?" 
I pulled my head up from my work, eyebrows arched in surprise. I didn't recall Jack ever calling me by my first name. He'd always gone with the nickname "Coop", just like the rest of the soldiers. 
His eyes were scanning the dirt ground; one elbow supported his body as he leaned against the heavy machinery. 
I swallowed at the younger man's question. Most of the time, I tried to keep thoughts of my family away when I was around the others. I saved the precious family memories for when I had a chance to go to bed and weep without being noticed. It was hard not to think about them; I missed all of 'em terribly. 
"Yeah," I choked out. "My parents, and then my three younger brothers and my little sister." A tiny smile skittered across my face at the thought.
Jack threw me a crooked grin. "I got a kid sister, too. Gracie. And two older..." He trailed off, and I saw his jaw muscles tighten. "One older brother," he corrected through gritted teeth. He ran a hand through his mop of thick, dark hair and jerked his head away. 
I wasn't sure how to respond, so I just nodded slowly and returned to my work. 
"Louie?"
Twice? I glanced over my shoulder. "Yeah?"
Jack was gazing up at the sky, a sky that seemed too cheery and bright under the circumstances of war. "Y'think God really cares about what's going on down here?"
The question took me by surprise. "Yes, I think He does," I answered truthfully. My thoughts drifted back home to the crackling fireplace, all us Cooper children gathered around, listening to Father read the Scriptures and lead us in prayer every evening. 
“‘Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?’” I quoted, lifting my deep blue eyes to gaze up at the sky along with my fellow soldier. “I guess it's a pretty easy thing to forget.” 
Jack dipped his head in a slow, deliberate nod of agreement. 
“It is,” he agreed. “Especially after your father and brother are killed within a week of each other.” His voice shifted to a bitter tone. “Makes you wanna know why.”
“Jack, I know it hurts, and we don't always know the reasons, but we have to trust that God has a plan.” I offered an encouraging smile. “I'll keep you in my prayers.”
One corner of Jack’s mouth turned upward. “Thanks, Louie. I guess I may have lost a brother in this war, but it looks like I've gained another.”



In second place... Kaitlyn Krispense!! The humor, the joshing, and the mystery surrounding the ending... *wink* I wanna know more! 


“Ouch… ouch… ouch… oww!” Jerry tried not to scream as he gingerly opened the hatch again.  He pulled himself up out of the turret to sit on the rim and carefully inspected his now-bloody knuckles.  “I must be the only person that keeps smashing his hands under a tank’s hatch,” he muttered.
With a sigh he wiped the blood on his pant leg and hopped to the ground.
Rounding the corner of the tank, he barely saw the cannon arm before it crashed into his forehead with a dull clunk!  Jerry bit back the shout that rose to his lips, though a loud groan escaped.  
“Jerry, what the—”
Jerry whirled around.  “Toby, don’t say one word.”
Toby’s eyes twinkled.  “What’s the other guy look like?”
“What in the world is that supposed to mean?”
Toby cocked his head, reminding Jerry of his brother’s old dog El Dorado at home.  “I’m assuming you didn’t get that lump on your head and that blood on your knuckles from this baby.”  He patted the tank.  “So who was it?  Elliot?  Walden?”  He paused, biting his lip in concentration, then a mischievous grin broke out on his face.  “I know; it was Noodle.”
Jerry snorted.  “As if Elbert Noodle could do this to me.”  He rolled his eyes.  “If you must know, it was the tank.”
“Yeah, I know.”  Toby leaned nonchalantly against the tank, biting his fingernails.
“That’s a disgusting habit.”  Jerry wrinkled his nose at the dirt caked under Toby’s fingernails.
Toby shrugged.  “Yeah, well, I guess that makes me a disgusting guy.”  He smirked, then shoved to a fully-standing position.  “I’m bored.  Say, what if we decided to play a little practical joke on ol’ Noodle?”
Jerry hesitated.  “I don’t know, Toby.  Noodle and I aren’t exactly on good terms and—”
“And that’s exactly why we should!” Toby cut him off with a slap on the back.  “I knew you’d get around to my way of thinking.”  He grabbed Jerry’s arm.  “Let’s go find Noodle.”
Jerry pulled away.  “Nah, I don’t think so.  It wouldn’t—”
“Toby?  Toby Morrine!”
Toby winced at the sound of his last name, then turned and his eyes widened.  “Trent!”  He stared at the newcomer, a tall dirty-blonde-haired young man with green eyes and carrying a pack, then he stepped forward and the two embraced.  
Toby stepped back and held the man at arm’s length.  “Trent... it-it’s so good to see you!”
“Same here, brother.”
“So how’d you end up here?”
“Well, there’s always a need of men who can help heal in a war where everyone’s dying.”
Toby grabbed Trent’s arm.  “C’mon, there’s someone I want you to meet.”  He pulled him over to Jerry.  “Trent, my brother, meet Jerry Judson.”
Jerry smiled and extended his hand.  “Pleasure meeting you, Trent.”  He winced as Trent accepted his hand.  “Sorry, my knuckles are a bit tender.”
Toby nodded.  “The Morrine—” he made a face at the tank being named after him “—makes a big fight.  You shoulda seen her punching him in the face just a minute ago.”
Trent’s mouth quirked.  “Let me take a look at that hand.”  
Jerry instinctively pulled back.  “No thanks, I’ll just… go wrap it up.  It was good meeting you, Trent.”  He turned and began walking away, when Toby’s voice made him pause.
“Jerry, you should let him look at you; after all, he is a doctor.”
“Medic, Toby,” Trent corrected his brother with a slight smile.  “Big difference there.”
Jerry smirked when Toby rolled his eyes with a look that said, who cares? then nodded.  “All right, Toby, he can look at my hand, and then maybe give me something to help with my splitting headache.”
Trent gently took Jerry’s hand in his to examine it.  “You’ll be fine after a few days of soreness,” he announced.  He set his pack on the ground and, bending over to pull something out, Jerry saw a pen fall out of his pocket.  When it hit the ground, the cap flew off and Jerry noticed a small piece of paper sticking out of the pen.  Trent glanced down at it, then casually but quickly covered it with his booted foot.  Jerry momentarily wondered about it, then dismissed it with a shrug.
“Here we are,” Trent straightened, a roll of gauze and a bottle of antiseptic in his hands.  He quickly disinfected Jerry’s knuckles and wrapped some cloth around it.  “And there you go.  You’ll be good as new in a few days.”
“Thanks,” Jerry said with a grin.  He turned and walked away, glancing back once to see Trent rapidly snatch up the fallen pen and place it back into his pocket, eyes darting from side to side rapidly as if he hadn’t wanted anyone to see.
That’s weird. Jerry shrugged and moved on.



And at a close third place... Jesseca Dawn!! :) Hehe, your story was lovely! Such a mean joke, but...loved it! 


Art quirked his eyebrows as the top of the hatch began to slowly open. Thinking quickly, he took two steps back and to the right. Perfect. Now he was out of the line of sight of the occupant. He stood still for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, and his officer's cap placed at a jaunty angle on his head. The sea breeze threatened to shake it loose, but only managed to muss the red, wavy hair that covered his forehead. His green eyes danced with mischief as he stood ramrod straight, being careful not to make any unnecessary noise. 
Just then the fingers of the man in the tank appeared, and quick as a flash Art stepped forward. As silently as possible he slowly lowered the hatch till it sat on his fingers. 
There was a yelp from inside, though Art knew that he hadn't lowered it fast enough to really hurt. 
Still, the heavy metal would be uncomfortable when it lay on your bare knuckles. 
A moment later, he heard a snarl from inside the iron contraption. "Art, you lift that now or I swear you'll regret it!" 
Now how in the world had Gus known it was him? He shrugged, though he knew it didn't really matter. It wasn't as if Gus could see him. 
"Art! I'm warning you, I've had enough of this! Now open the hatch!" 
Pushing his cap further up on his forehead, Art rubbed his temples, seemingly in great thought. "Well, now, let's see. What's in it for me?"
The only answer was yet another snarl, and Art grinned. It wasn't often that he had the chance to play something like this. Especially not out here. 
"You open that hatch, or I'm gonna tell Rafe you're writing his girl!" The words echoed against steel walls. 
'What? You'd lie about me Your old pal?" Art's voice betrayed his hurt. 
"Huh, some pal. Trying to get my fingers chopped off." 
"Nope. If I wanted them darling little fingers gone, I would have simply slammed the hatch down and kept on walking."
"Oh, just shut up, would ya?" The words from the tank had increased in volume.  "I hate how you have an answer for everything."
Art chuckled as he reached down and lifted the hatch, and took a step back. A moment later, a dark brown head of mussed hair appeared as Gus used his arms to haul himself out. "They need to install stairs in this rotten thing," He muttered under his breath. He sat down on the lid and inspected his fingers. No blood had appeared, though they were streaked with grease from the seal on the hatch. 
"Yup, they do need stairs. Also, keep those hands of my uniform." Art removed his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't need any grease spots on this nice, new, white suit." 
"Art, I'm gonna kill you!" Gus exclaimed vaulting to his feet. "No, correction. I'm gonna make sure every part of you is smeared in grease, and then I'm gonna kill you!"
But before he could take a step forward, the alert alarm sounded, and both men instantly raised their eyes towards the clouds. 
Small black specks suddenly appeared on the horizon, and the smile disappeared from Art's face. "You might not have the chance. The Japs might just take care of that for you."
He slapped his cap back on his head. "Come on, let's go."


~*~*~* 


Thanks for reading, everyone!! Hope y'all enjoyed these amazing entries as much as I did. How about giving some feedback to our lovely participants? :D Monthly recap, coming tomorrow! 

~Faith 

Sunday, March 12, 2017

Imagine This ~ #8

A lovely Sunday night to ye all!! If you're like me, you're trying to figure out where an hour of your life just disappeared to... Daylight Savings time, ugh. It'll take me about a week to adjust. :P 

Annndddd...it's time (and past time) for another Imagine This challenge! :D We haven't had one of these since...September. Wow. Alrighty, here's the details, rules, and picture. ^_^ 


The Rules 
// Write a story based off what you imagine is happening in the picture below. 
// Keep your story around 700-800 words. If it's a little over, that's okay, but please try to stay under 1,000. 
// Send your story to me via the contact form, located at the bottom right of this page. (Or my email address if you have it. :)) 
// The deadline is Saturday, March 25th and I'll post the entries shortly thereafter. 




What is looking at? What is he thinking? Why is he half-in and half-out of the tank (or whatever that thingy is...)? Is that dirt and grime on his fingers? Or blood? Tell me what you imagine!! :D 


~Faith 

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Imagine This #7 ~ Entries

Wow. Wow, wow, and more wow. That's honestly all I can think to say about the amazing stack of entries I received for the seventh installment of Imagine This, a series of writing challenges I've had going here on the blog for awhile now.

All of the stories were so unique, and yet they all shared the same sweet reminder – war tearing families apart and spreading heartache. Judging was an absolute chore. (To be perfectly honest, I may or may not have had each of you as 1st place at some time or another... Yeah, judging was that hard. ;) Every time I read an entry it was like, "oh, this is getting first!" :P) 

A huge thank you to all the lovely ladies who entered! :) I know you all want to read the stories and see who placed where, so let's move on! 


Our lovely picture and theme... :) 


After much thought and consideration of all entries, I'm pleased to announce that first place goes to Victoria Minks! Victoria, your short-story "A Picture of Truth" was outstanding! I love the POV!! I hadn't even considered the person who captured the sweet moment!! :) 


   I snatched my hat off and wiped my brow. Boy, was it hot! I shifted my camera bag, then afraid it might somehow sense my grumbling attitude, gave it a loving pat. "I wouldn't trade you for the world, baby," I grinned. "You're all I got."
   "Hey!" A curly-haired girl ran up to me, holding out a couple tickets. "Buy a ticket for the new movie mister? Eighty percent of the proceeds is going to the army."
   "Army, huh?" I frowned. "Well, I ain't got any money. Sorry."
   "You joining up, mister?" the girl trailed me as I pushed past and continued down the sidewalk.
   "Not if I can help it." I snorted.
   "There's a whole shipment of soldiers going out today at the train station."
   "Look," I spun around and faced the girl. "What is with you?"
   Her cheeks reddened, but I detected an odd glimmer in her brown eyes. "My daddy is somewhere in Europe by now, I guess."
   I took a step back, sucking my breath in with surprise. "Sorry. I didn't mean-- I mean--" I shrugged helplessly. "Sorry. I ain't too good with words and-- and stuff. I didn't mean to make you cry."
   "I'm not crying." She sniffed and her jaw jutted out. "But if you want some good pictures--" she jerked a thumb at my camera bag, "Then maybe you ought to get some of the men leaving. You know. Sell them to a newspaper or magazine as a look into real America or something."
   "Say," I let out a long whistle. "That's a pretty keen thought. Thanks!" I was about to jog off when I chanced to take a look at her again and noticed the firm set of her mouth. Her arms were crossed and I felt as though I suddenly knew exactly what determination looked like. "Hey, can I come back when I'm done and take pictures of you?"
   She tilted her nose up a bit. "Certainly not. But you can use that money you get from selling those pictures to buy War Bonds or something useful."
   I grinned and held up my hands in surrender. "Ok, ok. Well, thanks for the tip-off." I darted away, clutching my bag to me. When I got to the train station I was puffing from exhaustion. I elbowed through the soldiers, trying to get in the midst of them for a chance at a good shot.
   "Daddy!" I heard the shout of a little boy before I spotted him, dragging his mother through the crowd. "Daddy, you forgot to kiss me goodbye!"
   The man leaned further out of the train. "Here, Jimmy," he called. Jimmy? I thought. Weird, that was my name. I slipped closer to hear better.
   The mother lifted her little Jimmy up, and her husband reached down to reach him by the arms. The grab turned into an embrace--the kind that breaks your heart at the tightness of it. The father buried his nose in the little boy's collar as he kissed him.
   The mother was silent, hanging onto the boy's ankles as if that would stop him if he fell. My throat felt clogged, and I blinked. "I'm sweating into my eyes, it's so hot," I complained to myself. I pulled out my camera and focused it quickly on the trio by the train.
   There was a satisfying click and I lowered the camera, frowning. I wondered if the father would ever return to his family. He finally released his grip on his son, lowering him slowly back to his mother.
   "I love you, Daddy!" The boy Jimmy called. "I love--" his voice broke and he tried again. "I love you, Daddy! Don't forget!"
   The man stretched his hands out as the last few soldiers boarded the train and a whoosh of steam rose up from the wheels. "Be good, Jimmy," His voice was husky, the kind that hints at tears in the soul. "You're the man of the family while I'm away."
   "I know." Jimmy nodded, scrambling down from his mother's arms.
   The man glanced at his wife--just a glance, and it said so much. She raised her hand until the train disappeared, but still stood even after it had been gone for a few minutes.
   I felt like I was going to choke. So that was what family was like...and that was also what courage was like. I felt like a miserable coward. This photo was not going to be sold to a magazine, but I was still glad I got it. It had opened my eyes to the truth--there was a job to be done. But could I do it?
   By the time I reached the girl selling tickets again, I had made up my mind. "Hey, where's the recruiting station?"
   Her eyes grew wide, then she gave a shy smile. "I could take you."




Second place goes to Amy Lane with her heartbreaking tale, That Day When He Left. Amy, your beautiful story evoked such emotion in me. :') I loved the way you told it with the wife thinking back to his departure. :) 


December 25, 1944.
I remember that day, when he left. It was the spring of 1942, and the sun was rebeliously shining in the morning sky like a war wasn't raging. I wonder how many times the sun has shone over a scene like that one—a scene of longing and fear, of love and selfish wishes.
As my husband, Jackson, my son, Lawrence, and I drove to the train station, Lawerence wouldn't stop asking why Daddy had to leave. He had been told many times before that Daddy had to go defend America, but he didn't understand. When we arrived, Jackson parked the car, and grabbed his things, "Well, Martha, this is it."
I just looked at him, with tears of sadness forming in my eyes, "Oh, Jackson, I wish..." My tears sufficed for words as I rushed into his arms, and cried. He gently held me, stroking my brown hair.
"Okay, I'll be late."
I pulled away, composing myself and wiping my face, "Right....I am going to miss you."
"I'll miss you to," Jackson assured.
Before he left, I gave him one last kiss and hug, and Lawrence did also. I watched as he dissappeared into the train and then through the window as he found his seat.
With smiling face and torso out the window, he said, "No matter what happens Martha Wright, I love you."
"I love you, too." I said, trying not to choke up, for his sake.
"And I love you, buddy," He said to Lawrence.
"Momma? I want to hug daddy."
I told him he couldn't. But looking at my husband, said, "I'll lift you up."
Picking up the toddler, I lifted him as high as my arms would carry him—halfway up to the train window. Jackson took over, and grabbed his son up till all I had was Lawrence's legs, and hugged him, saying something to him that I couldn't understand except for fragments.
But just as I had started to tear again, the station master called out, and I took Lawrence back, holding him on my side.
"Daddy leaving," Lawrence sadly said.
The train jerked to a start, and I reached for Jackson's hand, holding our son with the other.
"May God keep you safe; and don't forget to write!" I called to him over the loud train noise. I walked quickly, and didn't let go of his hand until I had to for the speed of the train.
"I love you" I called.
"I love you," He replied.
And then, as he rode away in his green uniform, I held on to his memory.
"Wave at Daddy," I said to our son.
We waved until he was out of eyesight, and then, putting Lawrence down, we walked back to the truck. On the way home, I cried both in my heart, and out.
"Don't worry, Daddy'll be back," Lawrence comforted, "He said not to worry, and that no matter what happens, God will take care of us."
I listened to his words, and was ashamed I had let myself cry so much in front of my son, who sat beside me in the middle seat, "Anything else?"
"Daddy said that he was proud of me, and that he loved me. He said that he had to leave to help the army, but he will always remember us. So don't worry, Momma, God's got things under control," He reassured, bouncing in his seat, and a confident expression upon his face.
"You're right, Lawrence, He does."

Yes, I remember that day. It was sad, but I had hope—hope that the war would end, and Jackson would come home and be the husband and father I needed him to be. The days following were tough, but we managed. Jackson and I wrote each other and Lawrence drew pictures. Sometimes it was difficult because I would not hear from him for months. But then, I would rejoice when I recieved a letter saying that he was safe somewhere in Europe.
A year later I recieved a telegram that Jackson was reported MIA, followed two weeks later by a killed in action telegram.
I was devestated, and didn't know what to do. But I knew I could find comfort in God's arms, so that's where I ran.
What I didn't know that day my husband left, was that I would only see him a few times more, before he died. If anybody told me, I would've never let go. But we can't know these things. So we have to place our lives in God's hands, not ours. And if tragedy happens, we have to trust Him that things will turn out fine in the end. And I'm am still doing it today. The war has still not ended, but I trust God will bring us through.




Coming in at a third place is Jesseca Dawn! Your entry was amazing, Jesseca! It was the only one from the father's POV and also the only entry not written in first-person! Woo-hoo! :D 

Betty blinked away tears as they neared the station. Gil clutched her right hand, toddling as best he could after insisting on walking. 
Her left hand was tucked securely in Walter’s arm as he led the way up the boardwalk. 
Just a few more minutes. Then he is gone. The thought pierced her heart, and she no longer attempted to hold back the tears. This felt right. Her, Walter and Gil. A family. But in minutes they would be separated. And only the Lord knew if she would ever see him again. The war had taken many loved ones, and in her heart Betty knew it would claim many more before everything was over.
Walter squeezed her hand in an effort to comfort her. She only clutched him closer as they made their way toward the train. 
The station was filled with many other men in uniform. All ready to be shipped off to some place overseas. 
Walter stopped and turned her to face him, and everyone around them seemed to fade. She studied him, etching his face in her memory. The laugh lines around his eyes, his lips when he smiled, and those blue eyes that looked so much like David’s. 
“You know I’ll come back, Betty.” He reached up a hand and stroked her cheek. “I’ll do everything in my power to make it back to you.” 
Betty nodded. She knew he would. Yet, sometimes it wasn’t enough. War was no respecter of persons. She caressed his fingers, willing herself to believe he would come home. “The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do is let you go.” Her words were hardly a whisper, and Walter had to lower his head to hear them. 
“God is with me, Betty. He’ll see me through.” 
Betty bit her lip. She knew it was true, but sometimes God didn’t see them through the war … instead He saw them through the pearly gates and into paradise. 
Leaving her alone. 
“Hey, Betty.” He tipped her chin. “The first thing I want to see when I come home is your smile. And you. You and Gil both. Thinking of you will help me work harder to make it through and come home to you. And then I’ll never leave.” His eyes bore into her, wearing the most serious look she had ever seen on his face. “I’ll never leave, Betty. You hear? We’ll build a life together. We’ll have our farm, raise our kids, and grow old together. And that’s a promise.”
Betty smiled through her tears. “It sounds wonderful. I love you, Walter.”
The train whistle sounded, and Walter grinned. “And I love you, Mrs. Sullivan.” He turned as if to leave, but then swiveled back around and pulled her to him, pressing a kiss onto her lips. For one breathless moment, all her worry seemed to melt away as his arms went around her. This is how it should be.
But all too soon he stepped back. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll come home soon.”
He turned and picked up Gil, who had been watching the exchange solemnly. “Now you watch over your mamma for me, ya hear?”
Gil smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry, daddy. I’ll keep her safe.”
A grin spread over Walter’s face. “That’s my boy. “
He set Gil in Betty’s arms. “Now, this is how I want to see you both when I come back. Standing here a-waiting for me.” 
With that, he turned and bounded up the steps to the train.
***
Walter shoved his way past the other men, and situated himself at a window seat. Leaning out, he saw Betty and Gil standing where he had left them. An ache filled his heart as he saw them there, alone in a sea of people. Had he done wrong marrying Betty before he shipped out? She had already lost one husband to the war, and through it had been nearly two years, he knew that in times like this, the pain was still fresh. 
He was putting her through this a second time, and that was more than any woman should have to bear. 
At that moment Gil spotted him, and reached his chubby hands toward the train. 
A smile stole across Walter’s face as he propped open the window. Betty stepped closer to the train, and Walter chuckled and pulled Gil close. “I’ll sure miss you, buddy.”
Gil didn’t reply, only landed a slobbery kiss on his face. “I love you, daddy.” 
“I love you, too, buddy.” He lowered Gil down to Betty, and once again was struck with how much Gil looked like his father. He had blond hair and blue eyes, the opposite of Betty’s darker hair and hazel eyes. 
Gilbert would have loved his son. The thought flitted across his mind. Walter had never been close to Gilbert, but because David and him had been best friends, he had gotten to know him like an older brother. 
Gil will know what his father was like, Walter vowed. He’ll grow up proud of the Wilson name.  
His gaze traveled to Betty.
Her eyes shone with determination. She knew the risk of losing someone, yet she still stood strong. God bring me back.  He blinked hard as the train moved away from the station, leaving the two he loved most in their world behind. Please bring me home, and back to Betty.


Our shortest (but nevertheless sweet!) entry comes in at fourth place with Raechel Lenore's story, Forever. :D Your writing is so beautiful, Raechel! I can feel the love between these three. <3 

I had to keep a smiling face for him. For them. Really, for all of us. I knew that if I didn't smile, I would cry. And I didn't like crying - before today, I never had much reason to cry. There was always so much to be happy about.
"Give Daddy one last kiss now, my lad," Jim's strong voice brought my thoughts back to reality - the crashing reality that I wished was not true. 
Our little boy, Timothy, swung his arms up around Jim's neck, clinging to him with the fierceness of a child. Jim clung right back.
The train would pull away at any moment. I held tight to Timothy's little legs as Jim gave him one last fatherly hug and kiss.
Then it was time for me to pull our boy back to safety. If only I could pull my Jim back to safety too. Forever. But a man must fight for his country - I understood that, but my heart yearned for something else.
"Goodbye, Leslie." Jim said my name so softly it was almost like an embrace. "Goodbye Jim. Be safe. I love you, darling."
Jim leaned far out his window and kissed me gently. A sweet goodbye kiss. I hope it wouldn't be the last. "I love you too, my dearest Leslie. My beloved. Forever."
At that the train pulled out. It was too soon. But I lifted a hand to my lips, blew him a kiss, and hugged Timothy close to me.
I smiled for him. "Goodbye, Jim. Come home soon," I whispered in my heart. And I know he felt the same. We were one, even when apart.
"I love you forever".




Coming in at a close fifth is Kaitlyn Krispense! Kaitlyn, I loved the way you used the POV of the father's friend, and then carried us away from the train station and clear to the battlefield. Bravo! :) 


  I watched with tears in my eyes as my best friend, Lucas, said goodbye to his family, leaning out the train window.  When Lucas received his son from the arms of his wife, Millie, and held him close for a long moment, I realized just how much family meant to him.  It was a scene I’ll never forget: the early morning sun bathed the platform with its golden light, illuminating dozens of wives, mothers, sisters, and girlfriends saying their goodbyes to men they might never see again.
  The train jolted and started to move. Lucas quickly handed his son back to Millie, and she blew him one last kiss.  Then she turned to me.  “You keep him safe for me, y’hear, Micah?”
  I nodded, swallowing around the lump in my throat.  “I promise, Millie.”  We waved, leaning far out the windows, until we went around a bend and they were out of sight.
  No one told me what I’d go through to keep Lucas safe; I never would’ve believed them if anyone had.

***

  Gunfire; cannon booms; the cries of wounded men.  War is terrifying.
  All of a sudden they were upon us: Germans, in their gray uniforms, surrounding us on all sides. 
  “Retreat!”  I heard my commander shout.  “Retreat!”
  Lucas and I backed up together, side by side, shooting our way backward until we were safely in the cover of trees.  Then we turned and ran like madmen.  Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucas grab his shoulder and fall to the ground with a groan.
  I stopped short and turned around.  A mental image of Millie’s tear-streaked face at the train depot filled me with determination.  “You keep him safe for me, y’hear, Micah?”  Her voice came back to me, shaking with emotion.  I would keep Lucas safe, even if it was the last thing I did.
  I ran back to him and dropped to my knees.  “Can you walk with me?”  I asked anxiously.
  He nodded and rose to his knees.  I helped him to his feet, and together we slowly made our way back.  I was walking backwards, guarding us with my gun in my right hand, supporting Lucas with my left. 
  I kept a wary eye on the brush ahead of me, all the while walking backward, when the first kraut stepped into my line of vision.  I swung my gun around and fired once before he got a shot off at us.  The man spun around and fell to the grass.
  I still heard shooting and cannon fire, but it was somewhat muffled by the foliage around us.  Then, about five hundred feet in front of me, a German stepped out of cover with his gun raised.  Everything seemed to happen in slow motion; I shoved Lucas to the ground and stood between him and the kraut.  I raised my gun, but it was too late.
  I saw the German’s machine gun jerk with the force of its unloading bullets; I felt a searing pain in my shoulder, in my leg, my head.  I was falling, and I couldn’t do anything to stop myself. I hit the ground.  My vision was obscured because of the pain.  Then everything went black.

***

  Drip, drip, drip. Something was on my face.  Drip, drip, drip.  I opened one eye, only to receive a drop of the wetness in my eye.  I didn’t burn, so I knew it was water.  I opened the other eye, and received the same treatment.  I tried rolling my head to the side, but that just brought awful pain to my head.
  “Oh, you’re awake; here, let me take care of that.”  I heard a voice above me say, and the dripping suddenly stopped.  I opened my eyes to see none other than Lucas sitting next to me.
  I sat up suddenly, instantly regretting it; Lucas did too, what with the look he gave me.  “You do know that every time you move, you make your wounds bleed again, and every time your wounds bleed I have to change the bandages, and when I have to change the bandages I move and my wound bleeds again, which means-”
  “All right, I get the point!”  I said with as much of a chuckle as I could muster.  I settled back against the tree I had been leaning against.  Rolling my eyes upward, I saw that Lucas had draped his own jacket over a low-hanging branch to keep the trees from dripping their early-morning dew on me.
  “How long have I been out?”  I asked with difficulty; my wounds made my entire body ache like never before.
 “Just a few hours.  Right after that kraut shot you, I managed to get him.  Then God gave me enough strength to drag you over here.  The medics are going through this area; they’ll be here soon.”
  “I was supposed to take care of you; fine job I did.”  I mentally kicked myself.
  “Are these words coming from the same man that stood between me and a bloodthirsty German?  Micah, you took three bullets while protecting me.  That doesn’t sound like a bad job to me.”
  “But you’re the one that dragged me here while wounded.”  I could see the medics now through the trees.
  “That’s what friends are for, buddy; besides, I’m just returning the favor.” 


~*~*~ 


And there you have it, folks! Weren't these all some great stories?! :D Any thoughts on if I should have monthly or bi-monthly writing challenges? 

Hope y'all have a great week! :) 
~Faith