GLITTERWORD

  • 01:44:19 pm on September 18, 2012 | 20
    Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

    Tuesday Tales 58!

    Challenge #58

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

    For all discussions about this challenge use hash tag #TuesdayTales

    AND since this week is my BDAY week, this #tuesdaytales will be extended both with words and time

    Words extended to 200, Time extended until Wednesday at 9am PST

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

    @klingorengi

    Jeffery Hollar

    Poet, father, husband and Klingon/Ferengi hybrid mix. Voracious reader (been at it for 45 years) and writer of paranormal satire.

    Secret Word:

     Cerise

    \suh-REES\, noun:moderate to deep red.

    Picture: remember, this picture is for inspiration, it can be used figuratively, or literally. For instance, it could be about a classroom or perhaps only the word classroom is used in the story. It could be about a kid wearing a dunce hat or perhaps a character calls someone a dunce in the story. Do what you will with it, be creative.

    photobucket

    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

  • Ryan Strohman 3:02 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

    Based on characters and events from my new novel, Terminal Restraint:

    The sandy-haired boy loved to taunt her. He’d purposefully make up obnoxious and vulgar answers to her questions. He’d carry on, often tossing paper airplanes across the room or kicking the seats of other students. He was incorrigible!

    Miss Trufant was beautiful. He couldn’t help himself. With her short brown hair and curvy body. And her reddish-pink, painted nails—he’d found the crayon color, cerise, that had matched them and drew all over his desk with it. He’d do anything to get her attention. When she’d placed the dunce cap on him, just being so close to her, he was in heaven.

    When Miss Trufant went missing, nobody knew to suspect the young boy. But he was devilishly clever. And he had big plans for her, oh yes he did.

    130 words
    @rastrohman

    • Rosalind Smith-Nazilli 5:57 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

      Sounds like your novel has a very interesting concept. How old is this boy I wonder? I would like to read more.x

      • Robin Abess 3:46 am on September 19, 2012 | #

        I second that comment!

  • Robin Abess 3:59 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

    A Little Child

    Cerise remembered everything. The dusty smell of the classroom, the way the pages of the books felt beneath her fingers, the hot tears running down her cheeks hidden beneath the large ‘dunce’ cap and the way the several of the other children had laughed and made fun of her name and everything else about her. Her teacher had been no better, seeming to take delight in picking on the plain little girl, often placing her in the corner or putting the cap of shame on her head.

    Years down the road, many people in her former class, including her teacher, received invitations to a party. Promised lavish food and drink, they all eagerly accepted. The house was far out in the country and very elegant. A very beautiful and poised Cerise met them at the door, one by one, and led them inside and downstairs to where a feast was spread. They ate and drank their fill, and one by one, fell into unconsciousness.

    Each awoke, chained to a school desk much like the ones they used in the days of tormenting Cerise. She smiled at them, and one by one, jammed dunce caps filled with spikes on each head.

    200 words {not including title}
    @Angelique_Rider

    • Rosalind Smith-Nazilli 5:59 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

      Love it – Devine retribution..x

      • Robin Abess 7:44 pm on September 18, 2012 | #

        Thank you!

  • Bob Mahone 4:06 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

    It was a blood-red level of embarrassment. Cerise would understate the blush, Todd earnestly sought to hide, under his imagined silk dunce cap. Yet Todd was no dunce, for what dunce would summon cerise to characterize the suffusion of his cheeks? What child devoid of intellect would acknowledge the absurdity of an imagined cap’s ability to conceal? But though Todd knew full well the fatuousness of his predicament, he was obliged to reckon that only a moron would have conjured up such self-affliction. Only a buffoon would have trod such unmeasured steps to his own disquiet. Whether cloaked by imagination or exposed to all reality Todd was in fact a cerise-face lunkhead.

    So now, with but a few minutes before the end of the detention he earned for today’s folly, what remorse can be discerned? What repentance is at hand? What lessons were learned to keep him from repeating and by no means returning to the scene of the crime?

    Rrrrrrrringgggg!

    “No more imagining. There was no crime. I know what I must do!” Todd thoughts were crystallizing. “Cherchez la femme!” he exclaimed, rising head up, to leave detention. “The next time I say, ‘I love you’, I won’t yell.”

    @Computilizer
    200 words.

    Happy Birthday Stevie, I love what you do.

    • Rosalind Smith-Nazilli 6:01 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

      That Todd… mmh. I hope he has learned his lesson..x

    • glitterlady 6:46 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

      Thank you for the BDay wishes, the official day is this Friday ^_^

  • Rosalind Smith-Nazilli 5:26 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

    She found it all quite fascinating really. Where she knew she should be terrified, she wasn’t at all.

    Most probably she would be when her turn came, but it looked likely that Robert would tell them what they wanted to know and she would get away with a bullet to the brain. Still, if she was going to die, that was a hundred percent preferable to the way they were killing her partner.

    The ugly one came over to her, grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up. She yelped.

    “Maybe, Detective Robert McNaughton, we would have more success with your pretty little partner. I am sure she would be a lot more distressed about losing her nicely manicured nails than you are about losing your bitten down stubs.

    That’s why it’s hurting you so much more . A long nail gives something for the pliers to grip and out they come in a couple of tugs. Looks like we are going to have to try a little further down your body.”

    Detective Sergeant Angela Collins sank back down to the dusty schoolroom floor and studied her chipped cerise nail polish.

    “I’ll tell you.” She said.

    @nazilliville
    200 words

    • glitterlady 6:46 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

      WELCOME BACK to the web’o’sphere!

      • Rosalind Smith-Nazilli 7:22 pm on September 18, 2012 | #

        Thanks Stevie..xx

  • Maureen (@Emyrldlady) 6:07 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

    I made a game of it. A game only I knew the rules to.

    Blush.

    “Didn’t you know, that bruise wasn’t from a fall.”

    Red.

    “You should be nicer to her, her mother drinks.”

    Crimson.

    “She’s just not as confident as you. Be her friend.”

    Vermilion.

    “She’s not really stupid. She just can’t find her drive.”

    Scarlet.

    “Shush, shush class, she’ll hear.”

    Wine.

    “Honestly, where did she get those clothes? The trash heap?”

    Cerise.

    “She’s rude. She doesn’t talk to anyone. Weirdo.”

    Ruby.

    “Why should we be her friend? She’s pathetic.”

    Blood.

    How many shades will theirs spill.

    @emyrldlady
    Words 100 (sorry I ready the 200 after I wrote it)

    • glitterlady 6:45 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

      no worries, the prompt is UP TO 200 words so you are still good ^_^

    • Robin Abess 7:45 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

      Nicely written!

  • Cindyluewho 8:53 pm on September 18, 2012 | # | Reply

    200 word Tale:
    Different

    >Jenifer was actually a very bright girl. She was just… a little different. The other children simply did not understand her. Youth and immaturity often times leads to taunting and name calling. Ms. Smith was little better. Adults, in many ways, can be more hurtful than children. At least children have the excuse of ignorance. Some would change in time, Jenifer knew that. But for now, the isolation of the dunce cap brought her peace. In her own world of solitude she could be true to herself. There, the judgments of other meant nothing. There, she is free.

    >Time passes and seasons change like so much water down a clear running stream. Boys turn into men and girls to women. A young man, cerise faced in color, stumbles for words that he practiced so hard to memorize the night before. “Hey, Jenifer, you… doing anything this weekend?”

    >A wave of shock spreads through Jenifer’s body like a thousand needles pricking her all at once. Her breath comes up short. For all her intelligence and analytical observations, Jenifer never noticed the quite boy in the back of the class room who was always in love with her unwavering spirit and soul.

    200 words
    @Cindyluewho2

  • Sheilagh Lee 2:36 am on September 19, 2012 | # | Reply

    Cerise considered a dunce by her first grade teacher lived in her own world. Cerise studied the interactions of classmates, and teachers. She was the ultimate observer of people. She didn’t care others thought her mind wandered, she didn’t interact. Cerise grew up and went to college studying behavioural patterns .Cerise bestowed award after award from her peers, for her field of study, but deep down Cerise was still the little girl the teacher said had lost her mind. Cerise went to therapy weekly to overcome her feelings, but never quite succeeded from dimming the voice. One day at the grocery store she ran into her teacher.
    “Mrs.Bertrand?”
    “I’m sorry dear, I taught a lot of students. You are?”
    “Cerise Barillas.”
    “Oh…I remember you. Do you work here?” she asked.
    “No, I am a world renowned behavioural scientist. Do you still teach?”
    “Teach why would I teach? I’m only five. Where’s my mother?”
    “Mother there you are,” said the man then to Cerise he explained. “Sorry she gets confused now. Alzheimer’s.”
    Cerise thought she should feel some justice in that Mrs. Bertrand lost her mind, but instead she felt sad. Poor woman she suffered what she feared the most.
    199 words
    @SweetSheil

  • Rebekah Postupak 1:00 pm on September 19, 2012 | # | Reply

    “Get away from me!” a girl screamed, thrashing in the pool, so I didn’t, and she died, so I guess she hadn’t meant it after all. Or maybe she did? I’m still confused about that one.

    I’m stupid. Really stupid, I know that now. When people talk, it’s like it’s all doublespeak and code words and even though I recognize the words, I can just never quite get what they were saying.

    I hate you. We don’t want you. You’re ugly.

    They say these things, the other kids, but then I see them crying all lonely in dark corners, and I walk by and laugh, because I guess it’s supposed to be a joke, even if I don’t get the punchline.

    “You’re stupid,” my teachers say, cramming humiliation on my head and standing me in the corner, my face all colors of cerise and crimson. It’s a relief, actually, to have them say it out loud, what they mean, and when they stare down at me in loathing, it’s comforting to know for once we understand each other.

    They push me away with their words; they pull me toward them with their eyes.

    I must be the stupidest girl ever.

    200words
    @postupak

    • Rebekah Postupak 1:04 pm on September 19, 2012 | # | Reply

      Sorry, typo on first line. Should read:

      “Get away from me!” a girl screamed, thrashing in the pool, so I did, and she died, so I guess she hadn’t meant it after all. Or maybe she did? I’m still confused about that one.

      I’m stupid. Really stupid, I know that now. When people talk, it’s like it’s all doublespeak and code words and even though I recognize the words, I can just never quite get what they were saying.

      I hate you. We don’t want you. You’re ugly.

      They say these things, the other kids, but then I see them crying all lonely in dark corners, and I walk by and laugh, because I guess it’s supposed to be a joke, even if I don’t get the punchline.

      “You’re stupid,” my teachers say, cramming humiliation on my head and standing me in the corner, my face all colors of cerise and crimson. It’s a relief, actually, to have them say it out loud, what they mean, and when they stare down at me in loathing, it’s comforting to know for once we understand each other.

      They push me away with their words; they pull me toward them with their eyes.

      I must be the stupidest girl ever.

  • Page not found « GLITTERWORD 1:57 pm on September 21, 2012 | # | Reply

    […] RT @LauraPepWu What's ONE thing you've done that's brought more readers? Q&A w/ 3 top indie #authors tinyurl.com/bmjctua #mywana #promotip 17 hours ago Follow @TheglitterladyTuesdayTales Top Posts & PagesTuesdayTales 58 – Cerise […]


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