Plotters Ink Workshop #2, Feb 2017 - Writers' Exercises

To view January Workshop results: January 2017 Workshop


These are some of the stories written by February's workshop attendees.  If you would like to review the "assignment" before reading the results below, please see this link:
 http://whitesboronywriters.blogspot.com/2017/01/february-2017-plotters-ink-workshop.html

Exercise: Fairytales, Reimagined

NEW ADDITION:

“What Became of the Forest of Giants”

  by Susan Hansen

Inspired by the album, “The Trees”, by the band, “Rush” and  “Jack and the Beanstalk” by Joseph Jacobs

Unrest happens in the forest when creatures are not about. The trouble is that the trees are not so nice to each other. The reason is that Maples want more sunlight and the Oaks ignore their pleas.

“Fee Fi Fo Fum..roaaaaaaar”….the forest roared.

          Creatures of the forest believe that Maples come from the heavens above and Oaks are full of earthly greed.  The greedier they become the more they disturb the forest.  The Oaks are the largest of trees in all creation and by that fact alone, they assume all authority.

          “Leave our domain to us, oh Creatures.  The Maples are of no concern to you.  They take up the space but have little say in the matters of the forest. ” The Maples hear this but say nothing.

          No other tree can outlive the Oak, so they put fear and animosity in all of the other living wood of the forest.

          “Believe us when we say we are not leaving the forest. We are here for eternity,” say the Oak and they stomp their roots into the ground …with a clap of thunder  kaboooooooom.

           Meanwhile, the Maples start to spread all over the earth and creatures are given little room to breathe.  Everyone complains about the Oaks but all despise the Maples for spreading all over with their leaves.  What to do? 

          “Oh Maples, you will pay mightily for your sprawl,” say the Oaks.  The Maples are still quiet, but unhindered.  “Whirlshhhh,” the leaves on the Maples shudder in the wind.

          The Maples wage a front against the Oaks and at the end of the attack they win over the Oaks.  The Maples then form a pact with the Oaks.  The pact is simple but will force out the greed and level the forest for good.

          The Oaks don’t know their plight while they grab up all the light from the sun.  The Oaks lose to the Maples indeed.  What happened next seems impossible, a mammoth-like hatchet grazes over the trees.   The trees were overrun by what sounded like a roar of giants’ feet.  

          “Bum, Bum, Bamm, Bammmmm, Bammmmmm!”

          These new heavenly creatures known as the Redwoods now stand tall over the forest and its tiny inhabitants.  The Redwoods were sleepy and fell atop all of the trees around left nothing but the twigs of Maple, Oak and now tall Redwoods.

Jack and the Stalk

  Terry Rainey

Once upon a time, there lived an ex-con and her low-level dealer son, Jack, on their small pot farm in Brooklyn, near the docks, in an old warehouse where their crops struggled and the pantry was sometimes bare.  Every day, Jack would help his mother with the chores - chopping the weed, watering the weed, and milking the cow.  You’d wonder what the hell a cow would be doing in a pot factory in Brooklyn, but crafty mom had done her research and found that one gets tax breaks for having livestock on premises.   She’d read about golf course owners who had goats on their courses, and paid much lower tax rates.

Despite all their hard work, Jack and his mother were very poor with barely enough money to keep themselves fed.   The small business restrictions on their medical marijuana business were onerous and robbing them of their rights as entrepreneurs.   And the environmental loops they had to jump through.   Not to mention healthcare, through the roof.

"What we shall do, is that you should walk into Manhattan with our cow and sell her,” Mom declared one day, cracking her tattooed knuckles as she looked up from the company ledger. 

"All right, mother," said Jack, "The stock market hit 20,000 today.  There’s a false sense of optimism in this transition, so I'll go to Wall Street and sell Bessy."   Jack loved Bessy but he was a good son, and tried his hardest, so he checked his subway card, figured he had enough fare for the both of them to get there.   Bessy, if she could fit through the turnstile, would not need a round trip fare, after he cleverly sold her to a hedge fund dealer.  

Jack took Bessy’s halter in his hand, walked through the alley and headed off toward the Lower East Side.   Hedges and cows, they seemed similar, Jack thought, as he led Bessy down Flatbush Avenue.   He hadn't gone far when he met a funny-looking old man who said to him, "Good morning, Jack, and this must be Bessy."

The Princess and the Pea

Miriam E. Waters

            The steady rhythm of the old clock in the far corner of the room was driving her mad.  Tick, click, tick, click, tick echoed through the still house as it counted off the minutes until dawn.  Alexandria’s head throbbed in concert with the clock’s steady count.

Image Credit: Wikipedia

            Alexandria couldn’t sleep, roiled by the question posed by her future mother-in-law … Are you good enough for my son?

            She struggled to escape the stifling heat trapped in the bedclothes.  The nightgown she wore seemed to thwart her every attempt to free herself. She kicked the last of the blankets away from her body, inched across the rumpled linens to the edge of the bed and climbed down from her perch.

            The hag had layered a thick mattress topper, feather bed, duvet and an assortment of quilts atop the bed.  Alexandria, the princess, was unable to get comfortable because the crone had slipped a pea under the mountain of padding. 

            She wandered to the desk and settled into a rush-bottomed chair.  Time to set this right.  Alexandria sat poised with a pen over paper.  She hesitated for a moment before her words poured out upon the page.

Dear Caroline, your question, “Are you good enough for my son?,” has exercised my mind ever since you first posed it. I find myself reluctant to play. Of course I’m “good enough” for your son, you silly twit.

            Alexandria climbed back into her nest of blankets and drifted back to sleep with the soothing tick, click, tick, click, tick of the clock in her ears.

“Baby Bear’s Encounter”

--(The Three Little Bears)

 P T DeBlois

             The last time he saw his Mamma and Papa bear, they were all together eating blackberries. Somehow, baby bear found himself separated from his parents.

            After searching for them, he found himself in front of a small cottage in the forest. It began to rain. He decided he should go inside so he wouldn’t get wet. The door was unlocked. Baby bear noticed nobody was home.

            Right away, baby bear saw a blackberry pie on the kitchen counter next to the window. It was still slightly warm when he put his paws on it. Still feeling hungry, he ate half the pie. It tasted so good to him.

            Baby bear noticed a large chair in the front room. He decided to try take a rest. The chair felt too big. So, baby bear climbed the stairs and found a small bedroom with a nice bed. He felt sleepy after eating half of the blackberry pie. He climbed up into the bed and took a nap.

            Suddenly, baby bear was awoken from his sleep. Someone was coming up the stairs. Baby bear felt frightened. Before he could do anything, a young girl appeared at the bedroom door. She had golden hair with long pig tails. Her face was full of anger. She shouted, “what are you doing in my bed?”   

            Baby bear growled, “help!” He went down the stairs as fast as he could. When he got to the bottom, he ran out the door. He found his Mamma and Papa bear a short time later. Baby bear would never return to that cottage ever again.   

“The Candy Shoppe”

            -- (Hansel & Gretel)

Julia Heller

You think you know how your day’s gonna go, right up until it doesn’t. Just a little while ago, these two kids wandered into my shop. Skinny little things, both of ‘em. Looked to be a brother-sister pair. Same mop of dusty brown hanging down over their faces, same grey eyes staring out from underneath. I didn’t hear ‘em come in - had my back turned restocking the lemon drops - but when I turned around, there they were at the counter, staring. I’ll admit, I startled, but I still smiled and said hello and could I help them.

            “You’ve got candy,” said the girl.

“We want candy,” said the boy.

That was all. Just three words each, no please or thank you or hello or anything. Now, if they’d been older, I mighta been firmer with ‘em, but as I said they looked awful thin for young’uns, and a little grubby to boot.

So I asked, “Are you out with your folks?” to which they both shook their heads and looked all ‘shamed.

            “Mama said t’get out of the house,” the boy mumbled.

            “Did she, now?” I said, and I can tell you I felt real bad for those kids. So bad I went against my better judgement. I lifted up the counter gate and said, “Why don’t the both of you come on back here and we’ll see if there isn’t some work you can do for me?”

            They followed me into the storeroom without another word. I don’t know when I last saw kids so quiet.

            “I figure I’ll set you both to sweeping,” I told ‘em, sticking my head into the broomcloset and feeling around for the light switch. “I can pay you in whatever gumballs or licorice ropes strike your fancy. That sound fair?”

            No answer. Just a hard shove to the small of my back, pitching me forward into the closet so that I bumped my head on the wall. Serves me right for breaking my rule. When I get out, you’d better believe I’ll tell those kids what’s what.

            I must have bumped my head harder’n I thought. Does it smell like smoke in here?

On-the-spot writing exercise:

Write the same incident from 2 different perspectives

THE DINER

Julia Heller

First Round (Unedited): Kate’s perspective

            I only got up because the dog needed out. I’d have been happy to stay asleep another hour, but he was whining and I knew Ryan wouldn’t wake up for him, so I threw on a robe and took him down. The backyard was covered in snow. Front yard, even worse. I thought about asking Ryan to shovel the cars out before work, and groaned. No way, no how. So instead of going back to bed, I put on boots. By the time I finished the driveway, I was awake enough I wouldn’t have been able to go back to bed if I’d tried, so I grabbed my keys and headed out. Vaguely thinking about breakfast, and avoiding Ryan’s morning crankiness, I ended up at the diner. The lady recognized me and set me up at a booth in the back. She was cheerful and friendly, but I wasn’t really up for a lot of small talk, so she took my order and left me alone. Coffee couldn’t show up soon enough.

Second Round (Unedited): Brenda’s perspective

            Barely nine o’clock and we’re already out of the Cinnamon French Toast Special? That can’t be right. I’ve gotta remember to check the back fridge. No time now, a customer just walked in. That girl who was here last week with her boyfriend. Alone, this time. I wave her on over to a booth by the back heater. “Gosh, is it still snowing outside?” I ask, eyes crinkling up with my smile. She kind of shrugs and dumps her jacket on the bench beside her. “Not s’much,” she says. I’m about to ask if she’s had to be out much this morning in the cold, but she waves away the menu in my hand and says, “Thanks, but I just need the two-egg breakfast, wheat toast, links. And coffee,” she adds, taking her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Coffee would be good.” I’m not the one that usually takes down the orders, but it’s slow enough today I can be charitable. “Coming right up, hon,” I tell her, almost missing the half-salute of thanks before I turn away. She looks like all the coffee in the diner might not help. Like she’s more than tired, or tired in more than one way. Didn’t I hear her talking, laughing, last time she was in? She snuck the bill out from under her boyfriend’s nose, I remember that, and I remember the sparkle in her eyes as she grinned at him. Doesn’t look so sparkly right now, that’s for sure. I’ll go brew a fresh pot.

----

MAEVE/ANNA JULIA

Miriam E. Waters

Initial Point-of-View:  Maeve [Unedited]

Maeve finished rolling her stocking up her thigh.  She smoothed her best dress then admired herself in the ornate mirror in the hallway.

      She was pleased with her reflection.  This ought to turn the mayor’s head!

      Maeve gathered her beaded bag and matching parasol.  She slipped on her lace gloves and adjusted the hat pin in her elaborate headpiece.

      She took one last look at herself in the mirror before leaving the mansion.

      Maeve decided to stroll to the hotel for a late supper. 

      The streets were filled with ranch hands, flatbed wagons, cows, horses, stray dogs and people, people, people!

Alternate Point-of-View:  Anna Julia [Unedited]

Anna Julia watched Maeve primp and pretty herself up to traipse about town.  She continued to dust the foolish gimcracks Missy Maeve loved.  She watched Maeve leave the mansion from the corner of her eye.

Humph, who she think she is getting dressed up in those fine clothes of hers?
      Anna Julia wandered over to the mirror and posed as she’d seen Maeve pose.  Looking back at her from the mirror was a slim brown woman in a blue shift and white apron.  She was still holding the dusting rag in her right hand.  She blew raspberries at her reflection then turned and headed for her sanctuary – the kitchen.

            Anna Julia lifted a heavy kettle from its peg on the wall.  She carried it to the pump and filled it with fresh, sweet water.  She set the kettle on the cookstove.  She moved about the kitchen gathering carrots and potatoes for the stew she was making.  She plucked some parsley from the kitchen’s window box and added it to the pot. 

            There was a knock at the door.  Anna Julia wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the door.  She gasped when she saw NAME standing on the doorstep, hat in hand.