Merry Christmas!

#018

The winning photograph for this week was taken by Cindy Tucker a few years ago. The creepiness of the dolls has always intrigued me. Here's what Cindy had to say,"I discovered this window display in a local bakery in Dresden, Germany while I was attending the 24-7 Prayer International Leaders Gathering. I was walking from the hostel to the building where we were meeting when I discovered this bakery with an odd collection of dolls displayed in their window.

Depsite the creepy dolls I did stop in and I must say I had one of the best creeps I have ever had."

Here's a link to Cindy's Flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ctatunderground

As for the entries..... I called a 3 way tie. I really liked all of the entries for different reasons. I enjoyed Linda's because of the child like qualities that were entangled in the main character. Mary's was sentimental and sweet. And I appreciated Jerry's not only because it was written wonderfully, but because it tied in with the Juicer for this week. It made homage to the young lady whose life was cut much too short during her church's Christmas production.

Not Laughing Now
By: Linda Gail A.

My husband made fun of my dolls when we got married. David and Rebecca were my kids. I refused to give them up just because I was now a married woman. When I started dressing them and putting them in his bakery window, I finally earned his approval. Customers stopped by each day to see what new thing they were doing. Business boomed. And I was no longer laughed at when I bought the dolls new clothes. My husband even wrote it into the bakery’s budget.

In Honor of a Life Snuffed Out Too Young
By: Jerry H.

Fred missed his daughter. Keri had been taken from them in a terrible accident, too young, doing what she loved best, sharing her faith. Fred felt as if parts of him had been wrenched out like the plumber jerked the jammed junk out of his café’s grease trap.

Fred had placed two dolls in the shop window. They sadden him because their cheeks reminded him of the way that Keri’s face lit up when she shared about the kids she taught. Keri loved those dolls, saving fifty soup labels to win them. They couldn’t take her place, but they could still bring smiles to children, just like Keri did.


A gift of love
By: Mary F.

“Teddy, My Grandpa made those dolls,” she said, stopping in front of the little shop.
“Mama, they have blue eyes and brown hair just like yours. Can we take them home?”
“No,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I owned this bakery once. Business was slow and I told Grandpa.”
“Santa can fix that. Just wait until Christmas.” he laughed. “Early Christmas morning, he walked with me to the shop and the sun rose on this display – his handiwork.”
“People stopped to look then came in to eat. A man offered to buy the business, dolls included. I sold it.” Then the tears flowed. “I sold my birthright.”

Juicer

As some of you may or may not have heard, there was a tradgey last evening at Crossroads Church in Oakley, OH. During the opening night performance of the church's Christmas Production, a cast member fell somewhere between 20-30 ft after a malfunction with her harness, and consinquintely passed away this morning.

Obviously, this brings a very deep saddness to all who have heard the news and honestly, it's hard for me to grasp or understand. It's gut-wrentching.

I know normally we here at 110words send out funny or amusing photos and the stories are pretty light. But I just wanted to remind everybody that when words are hard to find verbally, sometimes the best therapy is writing about them. I know we give out tips and all, but journaling is so healthy and I believe it not only allows you the chance to express your feelings, but you can also improve your writing skills while doing it.

I've included a link to one of the local newstations stories on the incident. http://www.wlwt.com/news/18304564/detail.html

PLEASE continue to pray for the young ladies family and friends, as well as the church and all who were in attendance last evening.

#017

Jerry Hartman has this week's winning photo. Just like his previous photo, Jerry took this in Russia. Here's what Jerry had to say about his winning photo and where you can find more his snapshots. "This picture is exactly what it looks like, Russian Orthodox priest blessing a car. This is outside of The Orthodox Cathedral in Almaty, of which I have pictures of there also. I have finally connected the links which can be found at daytimedreamsarebest.blogspot.com, this links to my flickr and picasa accounts"

Just like last week, LOTS of great entries. I picked Ken G. as the weekly winner. While everyone's entries were great, I picked Ken's because it was the most unique and honestly, kinda random. The whole thing made me laugh out loud.


The Wager
By: Ken G.

Mark Lutz groaned. Of course, the mistake he made was in betting Joe Boyd in the first place. He thought it was a safe bet that Dave would never walk on stage during Turkeyfest in that costume without saying a word. He didn’t see the long con. They had played him perfectly. Now he was stuck in this itchy bishop costume blessing used cars all week, because they had agreed that the loser would have to do the first new outreach suggestion they pulled out of the comment box in the atrium. Mark summoned his best Father Guido accent and went back to work.


Consequences
By: TresK

Brock paced nervously. His tunic scratched in the San Diego heat. This was supposed to be a simple mission; zap back two centuries, grab the girl, then home.

But nothing had been simple since Jardin went rogue.

“How much longer till it runs?” Brock’s voice was tight.

Craft remained calm. He was always calm. “Not long. I found the specs” he said, matter-of-factly.

Good, now to get her into the car. “It’s time to travel, M’Lady”.

She smiled at his pun, but her voice a mix of guilt and hope. “Will he be there?” she asked.

There was no answer he could give, so Brock just opened the car door.


Templar Lexus
By Deb Freitag

Andriatte felt relief wash over her. The sun was already high but she was finally on her way to shop for something fabulous to wear to her nephew’s wedding in Lake Como.

“Are you almost finished?” she piped up impatiently as the priest flung incense into the engine of her faltering Lexus. She didn’t want to get rid of it yet, even though it left her hanging on her last trip to Milan. Instead, she e-mailed BlessMePadre.com for some divine assurance.

An hour into the trip, she smelled sickeningly sweet smoke. She lifted the hood and shouted, “Madre mia,” as she pried the singed Holy Flinging Brush from the manifold.


By the Book
By: Mary F.

“Brother Paul, is this car a care”

“Yes your Excellency, it is the only new car I ever owned and it has been a continual problem.”

“Let us bring this to the Lord,” the Bishop responded.

“Lord, I remind You of your Words in Philippians 4:6 when You said

‘Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.’

My brother and I come with humble and thankful hearts for the privilege of bringing this request to You. We ask for a complete resolution.”

“Check your lemon laws, boys”, said the lawyer in the red shoes and black jacket.


"Ashes"
By: Tim Parsley

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t thrown out last year’s branches!” Father James was mumbling a stream of complaints as he flipped through the owner’s manual.

Derek’s red-robed shoulders slumped in defeat. So far, his internship wasn’t going very well. No one told him that you burned last year’s Palm Sunday branches for this year’s ashes.

Desperate to cover their bases, they had been scouring the neighborhood looking for fallen palm branches. Equipped with a Bic lighter and a plastic container to gather the ashes, they still had two hours until the Ash Wednesday services began. Plenty of time.

That’s when the car began to sputter…



Unction of the Sick
By: Randy H.

"…from ashes to ashes and dust to dust", pronounced Father Fredrick solemnly. "This concludes the ceremony of last rites."

As Father Fredrick closed the book, the guilt swelled within. When parishioner Christopher asked for counsel about his dilapidated car Fredrick did not foresee this misunderstanding. Father Fredrick had advised against repairs due to the condition and the expense relative to its years of service. Strangely depressed and mournful, Christopher requested the unction of the sick sacrament. Caught off guard and painfully empathetic, Father Fredrick agreed. Leaving the priesthood was something not dared considered, until that day.

Prank
By Linda Gail A.

It was an innocent coincidence that the car broke down in front of the Cardinal’s residence. My brother decided that it would be fun to pull a fast one on the Cardinal. He quickly rigged up a speaker that would pick up his cell phone. Then he moved around the corner and “the car” started confessing its sins. In no time at all, a crowd gathered and the Cardinal’s attention was gotten. Before long, the car was getting absolution. Then my brother had to go and give his own confession.

#016

110's own Jerry Hartman took this photo. I thought it was absolutely perfect for this blog. It's unique, different, creative. Here's what Jerry had to say about this snapshot.

"...this was a piece of playground equipment in the playground at Children’s Home # 1 in Almaty Kazakhstan where we met our daughter Anastasia. The mountains in the background are translated as The Old Man. If you follow them on a map they become the Himalayas."

Kudos, Jerry! And remember, if you'd like to see your photo featured on this blog, send me your best pic to the110wordsflickrexperiment@yahoo.com and you may see yourself featured on here!

As for the featured writing entry this week.... The winner is... Tim Parsley. Tim's new to 110words, but I was blown away with his story. It had all of the right elements... A good storyline, emotion, descriptive words. You knew the who, what, where and why. All of the key elements that we discuss on this blog. Great job, Tim!

"Rocket"
By: Tim P.

Pulling the last drag, she pushes out the smoke sideways through pursed lips as her eyes narrow at the red rocket still standing in her back yard. Propped casually in an old lawn chair, a crossed leg bounces repeatedly from under her lime green bathrobe. A thinning house slipper dangles from her foot.

When he built the rocket the boys were still small. Six and four? Five and three? Hard to remember. Been so long. Boys are both driving now.

Clearing her throat, she stands up, walks inside the house. Pulls the patio door closed. Through the glass, eyes the rocket.

Four years since he left. That, she remembers.

Gimme some more...

Star Launcher
By: Randy H.

Grandpa Les worked 40 years at the pipeline company. He got a gold watch and a handshake for his time. I remember when he brought home an old metal pipe and some sheet metal. He spent a whole Saturday pounding and welding. He built the "Star Launcher" for my sister and me to play on. We had so much fun pretending we were space pirates blasting off deep into the galaxy. That is until Uncle Bobby got caught with his girlfriend late one night having his own space odyssey. We'd never seen Grandpa so mad. We starting calling it "The Love Shuttle" and never played on it again.

The Dollhouse Astronaut
By: Ken G.

Floyd was taking a break from his "Honey-Do" list. Agnes had been riding him all week to finish the dollhouse in the backyard. He flipped on the television as he finished his PBJ looking for the game when he landed on TBS and saw Billy Bob Thorton. . .

"Mr. Farmer, how do we know you aren't constructing a WMD?"

"Sir, if I was building a weapon of mass destruction, you wouldn't be able to find it."

Floyd tossed the PBJ and went immediately into the backyard on a mission. "Forget the dollhouse," he muttered to himself, "I'm going to turn that swing set into a WMD!"

The Interstellar Federation vs. Probate Affair
By: Jerry H.

Nigel looked at the rusting playground rocket in his parent’s back yard. Recollections of his dad welding the sheet metal, Nigel helping, wearing loose fitting goggles, and the ornamental flowers incident filled him like a toothache.

The yellow flowers were his Mom’s demand, “I will not have NCC-666/USSWIDOWMAKER” displayed in my yard.

Now his dad was 12 years gone, and his mom was having her aged hippie face painted by a stranger so that friends would glance down at her and say “She looks good”.

He wished that he could fit into that rocket and warp away from tomorrow’s visitation and tears turned the flowers into sunspots.

Toasting the Old Man
By: Tres K

Dad died yesterday. He’d been working on it since… well, a couple of years anyway. Sarah made it back last Tuesday and for once Dave didn’t leave town, so we were all together. Not quite like “old times” but I guess it’s as close as we’ll get.

The house is too full now. Too many people, too much noise; too full of the old man even. So I’m out back, looking at my childhood. Sarah brings me a cold one and we talk about the time he built that old rocket. “So my boys can follow Neil Armstrong” he said. Then Sarah went and painted flowers on it. Priceless.

Title: Hansel Goes Metal: A Tale of the Nouveaux Witche
By: Deb Freitag

Witch! He screamed as he ran out the broken doorway of the old woman’s tiny home.

Ever since the 90s when the Berlin Wall was moved into her backyard, the tourists had gentrified the Black Forest. Now Hilde’s lifestyle was being challenged daily.

Stray children were harder to come by. And when they came, they took the candy off her house -- as if they owned it. One little wretch stole her door and used it as a snowboard to get away.

And now the thinning ozone grounded her flying broom due to a fiery reentry. So Hilde got herself a new ride. It pays to have a backup plan.

Juicer

So technically it's Friday. And I'm just now sending out the Thursday Juicer. Oops.

Instead of showing you something that you probably already know, I wanted to share an opportunity for you to view some great writing in action.

110's very own Brad Wise has written and directed a fantastic mash-up of stage and film, called the {re}gifter. It's this year's Christmas production at the Vineyard Community Church in Springdale, OH. I would encourgage everyone to come out and see some very talented writing come to life. Tix are free, but you need to reserve them soon.

Check out this link for more info and a few teasers.

http://www.regiftershow.com/about.php