Author Natalie Whipple, had a writing contest on her blog Between Fact and Fiction this past week. The objective, in her words, was this:
People say never to open with the weather, but I want you to do just that—make the weather opener interesting. It doesn’t have to be entirely about the weather, but weather’s gotta be somewhere in your 250 word limit.
I’ve been a little bit of a rut lately, so I figured I’d take up the challenge and see what I could come up with. I knew I could never write as well as my favorite author of all time, Snoopy (of “It was a dark and stormy night” fame), but I hoped I’d at least have some fun with it.
To my surprise, I wound up coming in 3rd place out of 49. Pretty cool, right? So cool, in fact, I thought I share my entry with you all. Who knows, maybe I’ll turn this into a novel, or something. Here it is:
She was as cold and bleak as a February morning. That was the truth, and Rube knew it. He lay on his back in the grubby days-old snow, thinking about her and staring at the sky.
He hadn’t planned on conducting an impromptu Meteorological study, but his to-do list for the day hadn’t included being on the receiving end of a right cross, either.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said it. Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn’t insulted her and instead just walked out the door. Who was he kidding? Of course it would’ve been better. If he had just shut his mouth, his flannel pants would not be soaked and his lip would not have the nice little crater in the middle. And his comic book collection wouldn’t be wedged in the snow drift.
As he struggled to his feet, Rube grabbed a handful of snow and placed it on his lip, hoping the cold would stop the bleeding. He took a final look at the closed door. The stupid snowman wreath, knocked askew when she slammed the door, hung crooked in the same spot it occupied since the previous winter. It would drive her nuts. He smiled.
He should have split a long time ago. It was a blessing that he and his fledgling one man private detective agency were tossed out. In fact, if he had to do it all over again he wouldn’t change a thing. Except perhaps duck his mother’s right hand
Thanks again, Natalie.