Tag Archives: yeahwrite

Well, it’s better than Howard the Duck!

First of all, I want to say thank you to The Speakeasy at YeahWrite.com for giving me a forum to share Waterproof again. I said if it won their weekly contest that I would finish it properly in 2013. And guess what?

So, now I’m a little stressed. Stressed and nervous. Fine, stressed, nervous and kind of excited. Because apparently I need something pushing me from behind to get things done lately. Cross your fingers there’ll be a book for you to purchase sometime in 2014. Just don’t underestimate my laziness, procrastination and … the biggest of all … paralyzing fear of failure.

Onto this week … The winner of the YeahWrite link-up is charged with providing the prompt for the next week. Here’s what I submitted:

The footsteps paused briefly at her doorway.

And then YeahWrite provides a picture that also must factor into your story. Here’s what they submitted:


What the Duck?

Okay, you know what? Never mind. Never let it be said that I would bow down to a challenge. So here goes.

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The footsteps paused briefly at her doorway.

She peeked from beneath the down comforter that covered the antique bed in the old plantation home. The clock on the Victorian nightstand said 3:47am. “Wow,” she whispered to herself. “He’s right on time.” She slipped quietly out of the bed and waddled to the door. “Stupid champagne,” she thought. “I should really be more clear-headed for this.” Then she laughed. “That tour guide was a total quack anyway. There’s no way this craziness could really be happening to the guests every night.” Her head was swimming. She dove into her purse and fished out a bill from last night’s dinner where she’d scribbled a little note to herself. “Donald,” she read aloud. “The tour guide said his name was Donald.” She continued, stopping only a moment when her toes became tangled in the loose webbing of the vintage rug, and opened the door.

In an instant, she felt a feathery chill fly past her in the hallway. Then she heard his laughter. He was playing some kind of game with her. Feeling totally daffy, she thought for a minute that her eyes were deceiving her. Then she saw the heavy book hurtling right for her. She managed to duck right before it slammed into her head. Then she remembered the tour guide’s instructions. He’d told her group about how to handle encounters with all the migratory spirits that roamed the halls in this old mansion. And she summoned up all her courage.

“DONALD!” she squawked, trying to sound as much as like a mother from 1853 as she could. “Donald, STOP THIS NONSENSE and GET TO BED!!!”

And, as quickly as the noisy ruckus had begun, it ended … when the apparition of the small boy obliged, head down, and disappeared through the wall.

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