Wednesday, August 29, 2007
"Tumbleweeds"
A short story being published on their e-zine site, Long Story Short has just notified me they will have it up and out on the 7th of the month as the featured Story of the Month. I had to send in a bio with it which I consider a hard thing to do but finally 'whipped' one out. How do you tell about yourself with out sounding braggy. You want to tell all the good things and none of the bad, right? You want it to sound smooth and professional, not wordy and country which is a habit of people who like to talk and write, if I told it like it really was I could fill ten pages at least. All this aside, check it out after the 7th of the month, read, enjoy and let me know what you think of "Tumbleweed". you will find it at http://www.longstoryshort.us/ Hope to see ya between the pages...Bo
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Socializing
I have been so busy socializing today that I have had no time for writing or anything else. Not that I wanted to do anything else but I am pooped from trying to get a new site set up just right with the colors coordinating with the print and arranged to be pleasing to the eye, then I had to download photos and wait to see if they would be accepted, like I was downloading porno or something, then I discovered I am not a photographer. The photos showed up too dark so its back to square one on that score. Now you are supposed to write something about yourself and to me that is hard to do. Do I tell them how really wonderful I am, or do I tell the truth, which is very boring. I never could get my music loaded so I went to the next item, invite your friends. My list was way too long and I knew half of them would not accept anyhow. I selected a few and sent them an invite, in return I got one from them, now if I want them on my site as a friend, then I must do the same, so I responded and now I have another site to decorate and complete and I haven’t finished the first one yet. I know its gonna be a lot of fun if I ever get to the point of writing again or reading anything other then instructions. I would like to invite you all to join me, but please do not invite me to yours yet...let me finish these first! Check out ‘Elizabeth Drury’s Social Page’ on NING at http://networkcreators.ning.com ...hope you like it...Bo Drury
Thursday, July 26, 2007
An Old Book,A New Treasure
Among my Mothers things was a set of small red books. I had noticed them off and on for years but had never bothered to look at them. I knew they were old and they were attractive. Something decorators would like to lie around for color. I wanted those books because I love books. I ended up with only one, volume six. I sat down last night and picked it up to see what it was about. It has been gathering dust for a number of years now. To my surprise it was a collection of short stories by Rudyard Kipling, Edna Ferber, Edgar Allen Poe, Thomas Hardy, Joseph Conrad, O. Henry, Henry James, and Nathaniel Hawthorne. It was printed in 1938, by Doubleday, Doran & Company, Inc. The first printing was in 1891, by Harper and Brothers. It is a real treasure to me. The set survived the tornado in 1979, I am sad that I do not have the complete set. In the preface under the heading fiction some one has written, and I quote;
“A great brawny fellow in a bearskin is talking animatedly, illustrating what he says with great sweeping gestures. As he continues, the faces around him reflect his mood. Tired lines disappear, dull eyes brighten, and a sense of pleasure and relief envelope us all. He is the first story teller.
Since then this scene has been repeated in all ages but in varying ways, and the audience still listens, or reads, with rapt attention. The story teller, though he may not be present in person, is still the center. He is still the magician, and as we look ahead through the long ages that lie in front of us we see no reason to think that things will ever be otherwise. It would be a sorry world indeed, if ever they were.”
This was written almost seventy years ago and still is so true this day. For here we are telling and writing our stories for those who love to read to enjoy and pass down to others, as those famous writers listed above shared with us. How fortunate we are…...Bo Drury
“A great brawny fellow in a bearskin is talking animatedly, illustrating what he says with great sweeping gestures. As he continues, the faces around him reflect his mood. Tired lines disappear, dull eyes brighten, and a sense of pleasure and relief envelope us all. He is the first story teller.
Since then this scene has been repeated in all ages but in varying ways, and the audience still listens, or reads, with rapt attention. The story teller, though he may not be present in person, is still the center. He is still the magician, and as we look ahead through the long ages that lie in front of us we see no reason to think that things will ever be otherwise. It would be a sorry world indeed, if ever they were.”
This was written almost seventy years ago and still is so true this day. For here we are telling and writing our stories for those who love to read to enjoy and pass down to others, as those famous writers listed above shared with us. How fortunate we are…...Bo Drury
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Write ring Mysteries ...15
I wondered what I should do. Who could I trust? I would like to trust Robin. He had been nice to me; in fact I wondered why he had chosen me to be nice too. I am being paranoid now, he has done nothing to make me not trust him ...but what if he is the one? The one that did what, I ask myself?
No one would expect me to go out again after what happened so now would probably be a good time to check out the woods. Grabbing up my slacks I pulled them on quickly and pulled a t-shirt over my head. No point bothering with my hair or makeup, I’m not going on a social call. Slipping on my tennis shoes I was ready to go. I wanted to move quietly and quickly and they would work better for that, better than walking shoes that is.
My heart was pounding and my hands felt clammy, they were cold as ice. I was probably making one huge mistake. If I were to ask I am sure anyone would say I was nuts to do this but I had to know. I opened the door a crack and peered out, looking both ways. No one around, that’s good. Stepping out into the hall and pulling the door to behind me I walked softly down the hall to the stairs. I heard voices from downstairs. Sounded like they were still in the study. That’s great; I can slip out the back unseen. I remembered one of the stairs squeaked, which one was it? Taking one step at a time I cringed with each one as I gingerly placed my foot down praying I wouldn’t make a sound and that no one would come into the entry. Two steps from the bottom I heard one of the men say he was turning in and saw his shadow moving toward the door, jumping down the last steps I scurried around the curve of the stair way and hid in the shadows.
Larry came into the hall and started up the stairs then apparently changed he mind and came back down and headed for the kitchen. I shrunk against the wall. He was close enough when he passed me I could smell the liquor on his breath. My knees were shaking, I thought sure he would see me. How could I explain lurking in the hall like this? He had me blocked from going out the back. I didn’t want him to catch me here; I would sneak into the dining room and wait for him to come out. Assuming he would come back down the hall I felt safe where I was by the kitchen door leading into the dining room. Leaning against the wall waiting I head him pouring liquid into a glass. Then someone else entered the kitchen. Their voices are low almost in a whisper, I can’t tell who it is, evidently they do not want to be heard. I think it is a man, sounds like they are arguing. I jumped as a glass fell and shattered on the tile floor. Someone cursed softly. I heard a thump and someone sweeping up the glass and heard it clatter into the garbage pail. The light went out. They had left the kitchen. I waited making sure the coast was clear. I pushed the door open and slipped into the room; it is pitch black in here. Standing still trying to get my bearings and remember how the kitchen is laid out I start walking across the room in the direction of the back door.
“Damn.” something tripped me causing me to fall face forward to the floor. Luckily I saved my head from hitting the tile but my arm and hand hurt like hell, I think a piece of that glass stuck in my hand.. I reached back to see what I had fallen over. I jerked my hand back, it was a warm body. I could feel a scream building in my throat, I put my hand to my mouth... lights came on overhead blinding me, I looked up to see Charles standing there staring first at me then at Larry sprawled on the floor under me as I hovered over him. Robin was looking over his shoulder. “What the hell...?” Charles asked. I looked from them to Larry and my hands covered in blood. I felt myself sinking and everything went b
No one would expect me to go out again after what happened so now would probably be a good time to check out the woods. Grabbing up my slacks I pulled them on quickly and pulled a t-shirt over my head. No point bothering with my hair or makeup, I’m not going on a social call. Slipping on my tennis shoes I was ready to go. I wanted to move quietly and quickly and they would work better for that, better than walking shoes that is.
My heart was pounding and my hands felt clammy, they were cold as ice. I was probably making one huge mistake. If I were to ask I am sure anyone would say I was nuts to do this but I had to know. I opened the door a crack and peered out, looking both ways. No one around, that’s good. Stepping out into the hall and pulling the door to behind me I walked softly down the hall to the stairs. I heard voices from downstairs. Sounded like they were still in the study. That’s great; I can slip out the back unseen. I remembered one of the stairs squeaked, which one was it? Taking one step at a time I cringed with each one as I gingerly placed my foot down praying I wouldn’t make a sound and that no one would come into the entry. Two steps from the bottom I heard one of the men say he was turning in and saw his shadow moving toward the door, jumping down the last steps I scurried around the curve of the stair way and hid in the shadows.
Larry came into the hall and started up the stairs then apparently changed he mind and came back down and headed for the kitchen. I shrunk against the wall. He was close enough when he passed me I could smell the liquor on his breath. My knees were shaking, I thought sure he would see me. How could I explain lurking in the hall like this? He had me blocked from going out the back. I didn’t want him to catch me here; I would sneak into the dining room and wait for him to come out. Assuming he would come back down the hall I felt safe where I was by the kitchen door leading into the dining room. Leaning against the wall waiting I head him pouring liquid into a glass. Then someone else entered the kitchen. Their voices are low almost in a whisper, I can’t tell who it is, evidently they do not want to be heard. I think it is a man, sounds like they are arguing. I jumped as a glass fell and shattered on the tile floor. Someone cursed softly. I heard a thump and someone sweeping up the glass and heard it clatter into the garbage pail. The light went out. They had left the kitchen. I waited making sure the coast was clear. I pushed the door open and slipped into the room; it is pitch black in here. Standing still trying to get my bearings and remember how the kitchen is laid out I start walking across the room in the direction of the back door.
“Damn.” something tripped me causing me to fall face forward to the floor. Luckily I saved my head from hitting the tile but my arm and hand hurt like hell, I think a piece of that glass stuck in my hand.. I reached back to see what I had fallen over. I jerked my hand back, it was a warm body. I could feel a scream building in my throat, I put my hand to my mouth... lights came on overhead blinding me, I looked up to see Charles standing there staring first at me then at Larry sprawled on the floor under me as I hovered over him. Robin was looking over his shoulder. “What the hell...?” Charles asked. I looked from them to Larry and my hands covered in blood. I felt myself sinking and everything went b
about the Write ring Mysteries
this is a series of writings . If you would like to start in the beginning and get the whole story send me a note and let me know. I will post it right away...BoDrury
New story on A Long Story short
On august 7th you will be able to read a short childrens story published on A LongStory Short e-zine site. Growing up in the country and watching the geese and ducks play and swim on the pond out back enabled me to invision all kinds of animal stories. I have another to submit about a goat and a little girl. We had 58 goats at one time. they were a delight to watch as they played in the back pasture, although they ate the seats off our golf cart and the bark from the trees we loved them. There is nothing like growing up in the country and being a part of all that. I grew up on a sheep ranch. We had horses, chickens, pigs, turkeys, and cows. I have a story right now on this same site about a dog named Bob who saved my life when I was a toddler. It has been fictionalized but it is a true story. Pull it up and take a look, its on the left under 'critters'. Enjoy and let me know what you think, then on the 7th be sure and read "Greta Goose" to your children. www.longstoryshort.us . Happy reading!!! Bo Drury
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
