GLITTERWORD

  • 01:08:50 pm on July 31, 2012 | 17
    Tags: , , , , , , , ,

    Tuesday Tales 51!

    Challenge #51

     By entering, every contestant agrees to shamelessly promote and praise the winner on twitter.

    For all discussions about this challenge use hash tag #TuesdayTales

    Please give a shout out to this week’s Tuesdaytales judge:

    @SuperHappyJen

    J M Filipowicz

    Author of Wardroids, an ebook coming in 2013 from Double Dragon Publishing.

    When she’s not writing she’s showering her children with love and snacks (mainly snacks)

    http://superhappyjen.blogspot.com

    Secret Word:

     Olympic

     

    Picture:

    ON WITH THE TALES!

    Go ahead and check out the archive of all the tuesdaytales or escort you to your tuesdaytales needs HERE

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Comments

  • Wakefield Mahon 1:29 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    Winner’s Wreath
    by Wakefield Mahon

    Strolling around the botanical gardens, we finally arrived at the bench Sally had been so excited to see.
    “Is this it, Sally? I told you I would take you anywhere.”
    “At least I’ll have a wreath of ivy over my head.” Sally smiled up at me. The gold medal I’d bought for her glinted in the late afternoon sun as I helped her to the bench.
    A broken handle on a pummel horse had ended her Olympic dreams, but it was the infection from the botched surgery that was killing her.
    “Thank you, Daddy!” She coughed and closed her eyes.

    100 Words
    @WakefieldMahon

  • Robin Abess 1:49 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    In Requiem

    The bench was still there, but the frame over it was now twined with ivy. It wasn’t a very pretty place really; never had been. No trees or flowers brightened the spot. It didn’t matter. This was where Robert’s girlfriend had finally convinced him to train for the Olympic Games.

    “You’re the fastest runner I’ve ever seen. You’ve got to try. Do it for me.”

    So he had and he had won. He walked over to the bench and sat for a moment, remembering, then hung the gold medal on the memorial plaque.

    “I did it for you, Sweetheart.”

    99 words {not including title}
    @Angelique_Rider

  • Angelica Dawson 2:28 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    This was it. The vines seemed to form a bull over the bench, just like the beautiful bovine that had approached me weeks ago. He had charged, dust clouding us both when he stopped. His breath huffed in my face and my mind swam at the warm, sweet smell. That was what lust smelled like. The breath enveloped me. Before I could sort myself out, I was wrapped in the arms my olympic lover.

    “I have you,” he murmured. “You are mine.”

    Scanning the park, I watched for him, praying he would come as the man and not the beast.

    100 words
    @angelicadawson

  • Mark Ethridge 2:33 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    I always finished my walk at the bench in the park. The one with the old arch over it that had become hidden in vines. They’d made the bench right after the Olympic games. When our hometown hero, Steve, won the gold medal in the hundred meter freestyle. He’d been a local hero. Proof that if you worked hard enough, you could make your dreams come true.

    Now, the bench, and Steve were forgotten. Steve was in prison, serving time for beating his wife to death. But I stopped at that bench every day and remembered my son.

    100 Words
    @LurchMunster

  • Ryan Strohman 2:39 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    I asked her to meet me on the bench in the gardens of the Phipps Conservatory, the massive Cathedral of Learning looming over us as a perfect backdrop. My plan is to rush in, faster than an Olympic sprinter, surprise her, and make her squeal when I open the black, velvet-covered box. I know she’ll be giddy with anticipation. We’ve been conversing for a year through various electronic media, and now we are finally going to meet in person. I know she thinks of me as the “perfect guy.” I just hope my ornate silver dagger doesn’t disappoint her.

    99 words
    @rastrohman

  • Jamie Dement (LadyJai) 3:08 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    Elora sat, gently swinging beneath the ivy that draped their bench. The bench where they first met. Their first kiss. His proposal. Their vows and all of their goodbyes.

    Their time had come once again. A meeting every four years. She looked forward to her tryst with a husband she hardly knew. They had history.

    As he rounded the path, her heart fluttered. She didn’t see a crumpled, broken, wrinkled, old man hobbling towards her.

    No.

    His eyes were forever young, twinkling his greeting. Elora giggled and blushed.

    It was her Olympic dream come true. She had won her gold.

    100 words
    @I_am_LadyJai

  • Rosie Smith-Nazilli (@MrsNazilli) 4:26 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    We planted this ivy together. Fifty two years ago after the summer Olympics in Rome.

    It was to celebrate the greatest holiday we ever had, and me getting pregnant with our Georgia during it.

    We had everything back then. Everything that money could buy.

    I’ve never had the heart to have it torn down. It’s a tribute to her, our Georgia.

    She’s not here any more, hasn’t been for fifty one years and the bastard that fathered her has been gone for longer.

    What sort of man leaves a pregnant wife for a German swimmer who only managed a bronze?

    100words
    @mrsnazilli

    • Wakefield Mahon 4:29 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

      I love that you’ve seasoned this heart-wrenching scene with a dash of snark.

  • Rebekah Postupak 7:06 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    Eating towns requires olympic effort. The bigger towns with diesel buses and parking garages simply don’t go down as easily as smaller ones with tree-lined streets and bungalows.

    None of it really matters, of course, as all towns get eaten by the end. Then life resumes, people carefully rebuilding from scraps or packing up memories in their shabby tote bags and moving on.

    But this lonely hillside bench… strangely… chokes. Its overhanging arch catches in my teeth. Initials carved by surely long forgotten, divorced, or abandoned lovers stick inexplicably in my throat. Understand: I never hesitate. Never rethink. Never—weep—

    100 words
    @postupak

  • cameronlawton 8:00 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    Olympic

    It was meant to be romantic. I’d done my best, put on make-up, even teetered about on heels which cripples my back but makes me nearly his height. I knew he was planning on proposing, that’s why he took me to the place where we’d met.

    It would have been romantic if it hadn’t been for the whopping great spider that dropped off the foliage onto my head and started doing an Olympic sprint up my hair.

    Michael is an arachnophobe. He screamed and ran … and ran … and ran

    92 words
    cameronlawton899@gmail.com

  • lastwordy (@lastwordy) 8:38 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    “Momma! Olymipics!”
    She was swinging from the slats, heedless of crawling bugs and spiky ivy. I watched, trusting the wood. Her grandfather built that arch from seasoned locust, the blessed wood of John the Baptist. That arch outlasted him. It would outlast me. Maybe her.

    She was barefoot and framed by patches of green-gold light when I looked up and raised my hands to steady her as she tried to flip upside down and work her feet and legs into the ivy, all the better to hang by her still-chubby knees.

    “Olympics, baby.” My golden girl. Long may she swing.

    100 words
    @lastwordy

  • David A Ludwig 10:27 pm on July 31, 2012 | # | Reply

    PROGRESS

    The forests of man bear disquieting divergence from those of the gods. Immortals grow plants, green and vital, whereas mortals have chosen to grow stones, set with metal and glass. By rights, the stones shouldn’t grow nearly so fast as the trees. Yet the buildings of man achieve over night heights requiring hundreds of years in nature.

    One particular Olympic bison had time to ruminate on these differences, after the sudden growth of one of man’s cities arrested his morning romp. Forgotten, the deity was reduced to a source of shade for humans seeking reprieve from their own city.

    100 words (including title)
    @DavidALudwig

  • Page not found « GLITTERWORD 1:39 pm on August 1, 2012 | # | Reply

    […] Paranormal Romance "If I was alright would I be leaning on her? Let alone mistaking her for a wall?" goo.gl/LyKD2 #flashfiction 15 hours ago Follow @TheglitterladyTuesdayTales Top Posts & PagesTuesdayTales 51 – Olymipic […]

  • TuesdayTales 51 WINNER – July 31st 2012 « GLITTERWORD 3:48 pm on August 1, 2012 | # | Reply

    […] You can check out all the rest of the entries of Tuesdaytales week 51 […]


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