Turkey Time

 

Photo courtesy of Flikr Commons 

5 Must-Use Words:

System

 Quarry

Ant

Bible

Artillery

 1) Use the photo and the 5 words provided in your story

 2) Keep your word count 500 words or less. 

3) You have until next Tuesday to link up your post. 

4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, Tena or Leanne) 

5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

  
 Here is my effort:

TURKEY TIME

Artem woke up in the back of the car.   His vision came in to focus; stretching his cramped arms and legs he sat up.  The argument of the night before came back to him. Imprinted on his retina was the image, through the rear window of his angry, red-faced father brandishing the family Bible.  The harshness of his words delivered as a salvo of artillery aimed directly at him as he revved the accelerator and sped away.

An uncomfortable, cold and lonely night shared only with the smell of the leather seats and a solitary ant, scurrying to and fro trying to find his quarry, was a shock to his system.  He was used to snuggling asleep in a feather bed with soft pillows to rest his head on.  Last night was cramped and chilly.

He became aware of a strange and disturbing noise. Raising his head he peeked out of the car window.  He beheld an amazing sight.  A rafter of turkeys surrounded his car.  There were so many of them it was impossible to count them all.  

One turkey, the bravest and biggest of all, hopped on to the bonnet of the car quickly followed by another.  Their claws scratched the metal, the noise was deafening, there was such a commotion and hubbub surrounding the scene Artem’s heart started beating fast, his breath coming in ragged little puffs. 

Artem made a great effort to get his feelings under control.  The enormity of the situation struck him.  He had to regain order or the family business would suffer.  Wryly he nodded his head in acknowledgement of his father’s point from the day before.  The old Russian ways didn’t always work for this next generation of farmers but the premise was the same.

A beady eye scrutinised him warily through the murky windscreen.  Artem shook away the idea of seeing an intelligent and inquisitive animal, more than a roast dinner; he couldn't afford to be compassionate about these birds, no matter what his heart told him.  Business was business. 

Shooing the squawking birds away from the car by flapping his arm out of the open window, Artem turned the ignition key praying the engine would catch the first time.  The noise of the motor startled the brave turkeys who flapped their wings wildly and gobbled louder than ever before.

Inching the car forward Artem made slow progress marking a path through the frightened feathered birds, advancing gradually through the field.  After what seemed an eternity but only a few minutes in reality he returned to the farmhouse.   

His father and brothers were standing at the kitchen door, he tooted the horn to gain their attention, a scowling face was replaced momentarily by one of relief as his father realised his eldest son had returned.

The family was united in its efforts herding the turkeys back to their enclosures, enticing them with titbits of kitchen scraps; everything had now returned to order. 

Word count: 491

 

COFFEE

It is time for this week's Blog Hop 
Here is our picture prompt, the five mandatory words and the rules:

Mandatory words:

election

t-shirt

picnic

lodger

wood

1) Use the photo and the 5 words provided in your story.
2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday to link up your post.
4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, </ a>Tena or Leanne)

5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow. 

COFFEE

He placed their Styrofoam coffee cups side-by-side on the concrete, cold and hard as his face was she couldn't help a wry smile to herself as it seemed to reflect their relationship.  He was big and tall and strong and black and she was smaller, weaker but sweeter and paler.

He placed his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her affectionately.  He knew she was worried about the election that was taking place in a few days’ time.  He said that in the grand scheme of things, a place on the Board of Governors was neither here nor there.

He had discussed and debated the issues with her making sure she wasn't on an ego trip and although she vehemently denied it, she admitted she would feel proud and honoured to be on the Board. It really didn't matter to her if she wasn't on the committee this time.   She would still come home to a pile of washing, trying to get the smudges of jam off the t-shirt her son had worn last weekend when they decided to pack up a picnic to forget the hustle and bustle of busy lives if only for a short while.

She remembered that Saturday with great affection.  They had driven out of the city towards the greener, open spaces and followed the trail into the wood.  They entertained their son with stories of dragons and Knights of the Realm.  

She watched her daughter being carried on her husband’s shoulders, her small three year old hands held on tightly to his neck, strangling him in the process.  They played hide and seek inbetween the trees, the trunks so huge that their girth kept them concealed, her son stifling his laughter with his gloved hands.

A breeze rippled her hair, making lines on the river as the skyline became overcast.  They were reminded of the time ticking away, moments passing, seconds slipping by, the hours hurrying along. 

They took a deep breath simultaneously, as he started to speak a small puff of condensation escaped from his mouth.  She listened closely as he spoke the words she didn't want to hear.  

He uttered noises, an incessant hum and drone, she tried to block out the meaning of his words but they kept repeating themselves.  It was time to move on.  He couldn't stay much longer.  In two weeks’ time he would no longer be her lodger. He couldn’t cope with the pressure of just being friends anymore and he wouldn't and couldn’t break up her family. 

Inside she screamed.  

Inside she wailed. 

Inside she cried.  

Inside she died.  

Outside she smiled and said she knew he was the nomadic type.  

Outside she stopped the flow of tears.  

Outside she nodded bravely and courageously stood up. 

She dabbed her lips with a tissue, wiping away the residue of the now bitter tasting coffee.   Her legs were steady; she controlled her breathing as she looked into his eyes and saw the truth staring back at her.

Word count: 500