roina_arwen

Ellie lounged on the couch, her back bolstered by the padded armrest. She peeled back the Velcro bands from her AirCast and removed the confining brace from her foot with a happy sigh. Gingerly, she slowly wiggled her toes then dutifully propped her ankle on a small pile of pillows to keep it elevated.

Her ankle was finally enjoying a bit of freedom after almost a week wrapped in compression bandages.

Ellie had partially torn several ligaments in her ankle while she and her husband Jon were on their anniversary vacation in Vanuatu. Her injury had forced them to cut their Survivor-esque time on the island short. The tribe hadn’t spoken, and Jeff Probst was nowhere in sight, but the island had chosen to eliminate her anyway.

Jon had been amazingly brilliant at fashioning a travois for her from available materials, and the addition of their sturdy fishing net made it almost comfortable to be dragged on for nearly three miles back to the small airstrip. Almost.

Ellie refocused her attention on her laptop, and was fashioning a reply to her co-worker’s email when she heard the low rumble of the garage door opening, then closing again a few minutes later. Jon was home.

Jon came upstairs from the garage level and draped his lab coat over the railing. His smile always brightened her day.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

She replied as expected. “What’s the gist, pharmacist?”

It was an old joke that they shared, partially stolen from one of their favorite geeky TV shows. She was a floral designer in a local florist shop, and he - obviously - was a pharmacist.

“How was work?” Ellie asked, as he gently sat on the far end of the couch, being careful not to bump her foot.

Jon shrugged and unknotted his tie. “Not too bad. I helped a customer avoid a potentially nasty drug interaction, so that was my big accomplishment of the day. Any updates from the doctor?”

She shook her head. “No, but my follow up appointment isn’t until next Thursday, so I guess I’ll be wearing the brace at least until then, and using the crutches as needed.”

“Don’t overdo it,” he advised, eying her foot carefully for any unexplained swelling or bruises. After a few sedentary minutes, he rose from the couch and stretched.

“How does a grilled ham & cheese sandwich sound for dinner?”

Ellie beamed. “Split a can of tomato soup with me, and it’s a deal.”

Jon bent over and planted a kiss on his favorite florist. “I love you.”

“You’d better, if you know what’s good for you,” Ellie replied with a wink.

Jon laughed, pushed his glasses back into place, and went to make dinner.

Love was the best medicine.

I got my Flash Fiction story completed and successfully submitted - huzzah! There is a 1000 word limit, with penalties for going over. My story came in at 994 words, and I’m okay with that.

I actually submitted it twice; once around 1:15 this afternoon (that one was around 987 words). But of course, I found a typo soon after - the sort that happens when you change the way a sentence is phrased, and then either have a word missing or an extra word or two. Mine was the latter.

So I pulled my Word file back up, edited the mistake, saw a few other sentences that could use some tweaking, and resubmitted it a few minutes ago.

As long as it is in before the deadline (11:59 pm tonight) they will use the most recent submission.

As a reminder, my Group 3 (out of 120 groups) was:
Genre - drama
Location - an airstrip
Object - a fishnet

The title of my piece is “Travels and Travails.”

I’ll post it here tomorrow.

Now off to work on my LJ Idol piece!

Or maybe because I’m a sucker for torturing myself with writing competitions, I signed up yesterday for the 14th annual NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge, which kicks off tomorrow, June 10th, and will “challenge writers around the world to create short stories no longer than 1,000 words based on genre, location, and object assignments in 48 hours. Each writer will participate in at least two writing challenges and as many as four depending on how well they place in each challenge.”

Huzzah? I looked up some past competition example assignments, and here are a few that they provided:

Genre - Drama; Location - An awards dinner; Object - press-on fingernails.
Genre - SciFi; Location - A drug rehab center; Object - a wig
Genre - Comedy; Location - a luxury spa; Object - an exit sign
Genre - Romantic Comedy; Location - an ambulance; Object - onion rings
Genre - Horror; Location - a rooftop; Object - a wheelchair

So… yeah. The location must be the predominant location used in the story. The object must physically appear at some point in the story, rather than a character simply mentioning it or it appearing as the name of a restaurant, in a letter, or on a sign (ie: The Wig Alehouse).

Everyone competes in at least round one (this weekend) and round two (August 12-14th). There may be up to 150 groups in the first round! Writers will be judged and assigned points (1st through 15th place, with 1st place earning 15 points, second place 14 points, etc). The groups will remain the same for round two but be given new assignments, and point tallies from the first two rounds will be added together to see who advances to round 3. I’m not thinking beyond that at this point in time, partly because that round won’t start until October 7th.

So wish me luck; once I get my assignment I’ll let you know!

Luke sat at his desk, swiveling the comfy chair slowly left and right. His long legs were stretched all the way out, sneakered feet touching the wall, and his arms were loosely crossed behind his head.

He was always early to the Ten-Gallon Club, since the clubhouse was in his parent’s backyard. With a last name like Stetson, the name was a perfect fit.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside, thumping up the ladder.

Beau - code name Bowler, partly for his rounded physique - strode into the room and plopped his bulk onto the sturdy couch. “Hey, Stetson! How goes it? Any more info on the missing livestock?”

“Not yet, but the twins should be here soon, and they’ve been following up on a promising lead,” Luke said.

He rose and got the six-pack of Dr Pepper out of the mini fridge, and offered a can to Bowler, who took one and immediately popped it open.

“Nothing quite like fizzy prune juice,” Beau quipped with a smile, taking a satisfying sip.

Luke just shook his head as always. There was no prune juice in Dr Pepper - it was an old wives tale; everybody knew that.

He opened his own can just as the twins came up the steps, herded in by a stubborn black and white Border Collie.
( Read more... )

Being a Type 1 diabetic has its ups and downs, quite literally.

For nearly thirty years now, ever since being diagnosed when I was twenty-five, I’ve had to deal with various types and delivery systems for insulin - from actual syringes and glass bottles, to the easier to use (and less breakable) insulin pens with smaller, screw-on needle tips.

Recently, I made another change: from using a blood glucose monitor which required a lancet and test strips for finger stick testing multiple times a day, to using a Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM). The CGM has a small sensor, slightly larger than a quarter, that attaches to the back of my upper arm and lasts ten to fourteen days.

Instead of finger sticks, I now use an app on my cell phone. All I do is hold the top of the phone near the sensor, and the reading automatically appears onscreen. Even better, the application shows me one of four arrow icons, letting me know if my blood sugar is currently going up or down slowly (angled arrow) or quickly (straight up or down arrow).

I do feel a little self-conscious when I have to scan my wobbly underarms, but I’m getting used to it.

On the one hand, I really enjoy not having to constantly poke my fingers. On the other, the CGM app is sort of like a stereotypical Jewish grandmother, aka Bubbe.

Blood sugar too low (55 or less)?

BEEP BEEP!

An alert flashes across my phone’s Lock Screen: Critical! LOW GLUCOSE ALARM! Dismiss alarm and check glucose.

“Bubeleh,” I can hear her saying to me with a vaguely Brooklyn-esque accent, “I don’t mean to kvetch, but maybe you should eat something already?”

Blood sugar too high (270 or more)?

BEEP BEEP!

Same thing, except of course the alert will say HIGH GLUCOSE ALARM.

“Oy gevalt,” she says in my head, “what is this mishegas (craziness)? You’d better take some insulin, bubeleh.”

I sigh, and eat or drink something if my glucose is low, or administer insulin if it’s too high. I’ve taken to keeping a banana on my bedside table, since low blood sugar most often happens in the pre-dawn hours.

Why a banana? They are easy to eat, healthier than chocolate or jelly beans, and unlike cookies, I don’t have to worry about getting crumbs in the bed.

Diabetes is a balancing act, but I’ve gotten used to doing the best I can with what I’ve got.

Me and Bubbe, we’ve got this.

Got my writing assignment! There are over 6900 writers participating in 118 groups of about 60 people per group.

My assignment:
Genre - Drama
Action - Littering
Word - Wait

Stay tuned.

I was given the genre of Horror; action of “opening a locked door”, and word to use “fright” by Erulissedances. Please note that the title does not count towards the 100 words.

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

The Asylum

Lilly held the brass key between her trembling fingers. She pressed her left hand to the cold metal door and murmured a quick prayer.

A ghostly presence shimmered in her peripheral vision, grey and insubstantial, waiting.

She turned the key in the lock.

Lilly pulled on the heavy door, opening it wide. Inside the dim room stood a rusty metal bed with a decaying, mildewed mattress, which spoke of age and decrepitude.

Behind her, the spirit swirled madly. Lilly could feel its fright. She shuddered and dropped the key.

Echoes of insane laughter reverberated through her.

The door slammed shut.

So I just signed up for the NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge, which kicks off this Friday (April 22nd).

I’m weirdly excited about doing this - you only get 24 hours to write and submit your entry, and each round you will be assigned a Genre, an Action, and a Word, and your entry must use all three to qualify. The first round, everyone is divided up into groups of 80 writers, and the top 15 of each group will go through to round two. All stories will receive feedback from the judges, and remain the property of the entrant.

It’s a $27 entry fee, but $2 of that is donated to one of five or six charities. There are cash prizes for the top 10 winners.

Possible assigned Genres are: Action and/or Adventure; Comedy; Drama; Fairy Tale and/or Fantasy; Ghost Story; Historical Fiction; Horror; Romance; Romantic Comedy; Sci-Fi; Suspense and/or Thriller; and Open Genre.

If you want to sign up or just want more info, you can find it here:
https://www.nycmidnight.com/100

Hello Dreamwidth, nice to meet you. Long time occasional follower, first time poster.

I’m still going to keep my LJ account by the same name, but now I’m here, too. Huzzah.