Sun, 23 Oct 2022 11:18:43 -0700WeeblyMon, 17 Oct 2022 17:13:51 GMThttp://raviswritings.org/fiction/writing-prompt-caught-stealing-from-neighbors-garden[Prompt from Vikki W.]
Getting Caught Pulling Flowers From Someone Else’s Garden:
“Peter Cottontail, eat your heart out!”
​“Will you shut the hell up, Simon?”
Chastised in whisper was humorous to Simon. Francis Never liked to draw attention to herself, no matter the situation. But in this case, she was actually correct to lambast him, even quietly.
Simon chuckled to himself and said, “Franny, don’t worry about it. We have it covered.” He gestured with his head, pointed nose towards the two watchers, heads up as high as they could go, looking out for any threats, be they human or otherwise.
“Caution is one thing, yelling out in triumph to attract trouble is another, Simon,” Francis said. “And don’t call me Franny anymore. We’re not children.”
“Sure thing,” he replied. Then added, “Franny.”
With that, he hopped out to another part of the neighbor’s garden. The garden itself wasn’t particularly well arranged, with potted plants littering the grounds that should have been in the ground ages ago, along with various kinds of edible and non-edible plants and vegetables. Non-edible to him and his people, that is.
Simon hopped around, enjoying the fruits of his labors. He had scouted, recruited the team, and planned ever moment of this raid. The garden, as messy as it was, was the most colorful and bountiful he had ever seen. While weeds grew in abundance in between planted flowers, he had seen the method in the madness.
The others were dubious, at best. They had seen the same garden and only saw the weeds, the bramble bushes, and even heard the pet dog with it’s occasional barking at night.
But Simon saw the opportunity and was able to calm their concerns, even pointing out that the dog was so small, the weeds were taller than it. It was not the fiercest animal in the lands. At best, it was a human toy without the ferocity that other canines usually were, especially towards his kind.
As for the bramble bushes and weeds, he pointed out that the tastiest vegetables were literally in their midst. With careful planning of the route to take, they would avoid being stuck. Further, the weeds were natural camouflage if humans ever appeared. It was almost too perfect.
Franny had been the most reluctant, but even she had to admit that the warren had been in dire need of fresh food for a while. Necessity bred risk taking.
Seven were chosen, two watchers, Simon in the lead, and four to harvest as much as they could.
“You’re daydreaming, again.” Franny had sidled up to Simon and nudged him back to the present. “It’s not good to lose focus, Simon. Not yet.”
He had to admit that Franny was not only his best friend, but there was a spark between them, not too long ago. While they were planning this heist, he and Franny were out looking over the garden, contemplating the best path in and out when she casually leaned up against him. He was shocked for a second, didn’t know what to make of it other than she felt warm and soft against his cheek. His ears struck straight up in surprise, but he didn’t move lest she stop. He realized she had just nuzzled him and was the first moment of intimacy he ever experienced. He knew this was special, but didn’t know how to react, other than just sit still and wait until she stopped.
Franny had just caught him daydreaming about that and was actually grateful she snapped him out of it. She was right, there were still dangers as humans were unpredictable and the threat of being caught was not lost on him. He had heard the stories of what humans did to others of his kind and he didn’t want that to happen today, other any other day.
He looked up to the watchers, Rance and Chris were the fastest and sharpest of the crew. He saw them remaining alert and looking all around. Simon could trust their instincts. If they dropped an ear, that was the sign to get ready to leave. If both ears dropped, that was the sign to drop everything and run.
He looked back at Franny, sensing her concern, and with his nose, he nudged her gently on her cheek. She nuzzled him back and it was an amazing feeling. He felt electricity at this contact running from his head to his toes. He needed to do something about that and soon.
Suddenly, there was a rustle not too far away. He looked up at Rance who was also looking in that direction, just off to the right near the house. Rance was very still but no ear dropped and soon returned to his normal sentry duty.
It was a false alarm.
But it was enough for him to check on the others and see what their progress was.
All of the harvesters had been busy. He could see the amount of upturned dirt around the carrots and lettuce areas, evidence of their successful harvesting. Was it enough, though? The seasons were starting to cool again, nighttime seemed to last longer. All signs that they were coming closer to winter. If they didn’t gather enough, the warren would suffer.
Checking Rance and Chris again, he saw the coast was still clear. He encouraged all to quicken their pace as he started to feel like time was starting to run out.
Franny took the lead and helped to get the harvesting to wrap up.
Looking around the garden, Simon saw something that caught his eye: it was a colorful flower. It was something he had never seen before: a flower with bright blue petals and a calming yellow center. The petals were large, curving out and down from the center, forming something like a friendly face. This shade of blue just happened to be Franny’s favorite color.
Simon had an idea.
Checking to see that the coast was still clear and Franny and the others were busy hurrying up the last of the harvest, Simon hopped across the messy garden, crouching under a few old bushes, crawling around various pots and other plants, until he came to the flower. He hadn’t noticed that this flower was in a pot placed on a shelf cluttered with other less attractive flowers and quite a few empty pots. It was placed here on purposes, he deduced, to protect it from the others.
It was a special flower and one that he had to get.
From his vantage point, he could barely make out Rance’s head, but he was still able to see his and Chris’ ears still, so nothing to be concerned with yet.
Cautiously, he hopped up to the shelf with the pots. There was no way to get the flower directly. It was surrounded by other planters so he had to wind around the other pots to get to his goal. He was afraid of knocking them over as this would create enough noise to attract the humans.
Slowly, carefully, he wound around pot after pot until he reached the middle, where the blue flower was. He got up on his hind legs and started to gnaw at the stem of the flower until it fell. Thankfully, it fell without a sound and he was relieved. He only had to turn around and go back the way he came to get down.
However, he noticed some movement off to his right. Of the four ears he should have seen, he now only saw two, and that was worrisome. He had to pick up his pace.
Unfortunately, without his extra caution getting to the plant, his rushed pace caused him to knock over a couple of planters. While they were not the ceramic kind, they still made a significant clatter when they hit the ground. It was too much and he gave up all pretense and hopped faster down the shelf, knocking over every planter he came into contact with. The noise was more than alarming. He could see lots of movement as the harvesters sensed the danger and started to flee along their planned exit path. To his right, there were no ears visible which meant he had no more time available. He had to leave immediately.
As he came down the shelf, he could see the blue flower and he was not going to leave this place without bring it home to Fanny. He ran to the fallen flower, grabbed the stem with his teeth, and promptly ran as fast as he could towards the exit path.
There were voices now, human voices that were elevated. A door opened and even though he was running, he could hear the steps of more than one human running into the garden. He was certain they saw him as their voices amplified, yelling.
Simon ran as fast as his legs could carry him, but holding the flower created some obstacles as it bent and slowed him down in some of the narrow pathways. When he attempted to crouch under a bramble bush, the flower became caught in the brambles, forcing him to stop, chew the step shorter, then grab the flower again and continue. This slowed him down considerably and he could hear the human’s footsteps get closer.
He was only a few yards away from the edge of the garden, he could see that Rance had stopped and looked back from just outside the exit path, looking at him, assessing the danger. Then he saw Franny eight next to him, also looking back and she was more than concerned. She looked horrified.
It was too much for him and he picked up his speed, heart beating faster than ever, panic starting to fuel his desire to leave. He was going to be caught and most likely killed. With the flower still in his mouth, he sprinted through the plants, weeds, pots, bushes. He was getting scratched on all sides, but he didn’t care. His only goal was to get out.
Suddenly, he could sense something falling towards him so he darted to the left and saw that a large tool had been thrown at him, forcing him to alter his path. But he didn’t slow down. He darted back on path and in seconds, another tool was thrown his way. He could see the large shadow over his left shoulder and so he darted to the right. Once again, he was diverted but not caught. He kept running.
He wasn’t sure if his heart could keep this up. He felt it beating through his breast and it was also starting to hurt. But he kept running.
For a brief moment, he recalled the feeling of Franny nuzzling him and how great that felt. He wanted to feel that again, but for the first time he had doubts.
Running, sprinting, darting this was and that, he was running for his life, but more and more things were being thrown in his way, preventing him from escaping.
He saw something that terrified him. His exit path was under a part of the fence that was broken but another human seemed to be going in that way, possibly to block his only escape route.
It was now or never, Simon put his all into his legs, urging them to do what they’ve never had to do before; outrun a human.
There was no choice in the matter, this was life and death.
He darted towards the fence opening, just to the right the human was stomping towards the same place. This was going to be close and there was not time for doubting.
He closed his eyes and ran straight towards the opening and hoped for the best.
And then there was darkness.
* * * * *
Something was hitting him and wasn’t sure what it was.
He heard voices but didn’t recognize them. He opened his eyes and the world was blurry.
When things came into focus, he realized what he was among friends.
His voice dry, he said, “What happened?”
To his right, a familiar voice said, “Are you stupid or something?”
Everything was going to be okay.
Simon went to sleep.

]]>Wed, 14 Oct 2020 20:19:50 GMThttp://raviswritings.org/fiction/writing-promptWriting Prompt: Michael Myers style serial killer goes shopping for a new mask/costume.
By Ravi Hayashida
Prompt Submitted by Jeff Smith

He really loved it. It was his favorite. It felt good on him, pressed against his face he felt a closeness with it, like a well worn baseball mitt that had shaped itself around a hand. From the shape of it; from the feel of it; even the smell of it, reminded him of better times. One whiff would take him back to when he was a child, running away from his father who had a tendency to chase him around the house with a chainsaw. Those were the days when he realized he was fast, and also small enough to hide in small nooks in the house so that his dad couldn’t find him. Even if Pops did, he would never have been able to reach him. At least, that’s what he believed back then. In hindsight, it would’ve been perfectly reasonable for Pops to actually use the chainsaw to get at him, and he would’ve succeeded. Good thing dear old dad never found those hiding places. 

With a shrug, he let his mind wander off to other fond memories. 

Camping, he reflected, was a great way to get outdoors and feel close to nature. It wasn’t a huge ordeal for his family to just get away for a weekend, or even a week, and head to the old lake. There was fishing, some hunting, and people watching, which was his favorite. He wouldn’t call himself a voyeur. He thought of himself more of a naturalist, observing the societal behaviors of everyone who visited his local campgrounds, including some of the more intricate mating rituals. It sometimes made him blush, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from these people engaged is such exhausting rituals culminating in a quite messy end. But they seemed to enjoy it. 

Sometimes, he would accidentally make himself known and ruin their natural behaviors, and that just killed him. There was always such a commotion, usually accompanied by screaming and yelling. And the running. Why was there always so much running involved when that happened? It’s not like he wasn’t in shape and able to keep up. Even then, he knew the forests better than the tourists so it was easy for him to run circles around them. The combination of the fresh air and exercise always made him recall these days of his youth fondly.

But, alas, he was forced to make a change. 

Walking around the local market, he had to find a replacement. He may not be as agile as he once was, all that running around for the past few decades have worn his joints more than he would like to have admitted, and a slight limp was forever attached to his right knee. He wasn’t sure if it hurt, but it was an inconvenience and sometimes it did frustrate him so much that he wanted to yell at the sky, but of course, he hasn’t spoken a word since he was a child. Instead, he would beat things in frustration and this would, of course, scare off smaller animals nearby, but also seemed to rattle any remaining visitors to the area. Not his problem. 

Shopping with a limp sucked. It was like one of those grocery carts with that one wheel that was a bit off, making the cart lean one direction or another against the driver’s wishes. Still, he was mobile enough and had no problem getting around. 

He struggled to find the aisle that he was looking for. He kept finding himself in the women’s delicates section. He wasn’t sure if this was a subconscious thing, or just how turned around he gets in these large markets, but he had to giggle a little when he came around again by the third time. He let out a muffled guffaw, then recovered himself, slightly embarrassed. For some reason, he looked down at himself and realized that he still had some stains on his jumpsuit. Now he was embarrassed and felt motivated to complete his shopping as soon as possible so he could get out and return home.

His mind working faster, his motor started to run a bit more effectively, he reoriented himself towards the right section in this monster of a market. He saw the directional signs hanging above the aisles, then moved quickly, his limp temporarily forgotten, and sped to his ultimate destination.

And then he found it: swimming goggles.

It was there, on the shelf, like it was waiting for him to come all this time. The black band was clean, the lenses lightly tinted with blue, reflecting artificial light like a jeweled treasure calling to him. 

In his right hand he held what remained of his old one, googles that he had found in an abandoned car years ago, during one of his camping trips near the lake. It wasn’t as nice as the new one, but it had served him well. He remembers trying them on that first time. No adjustments necessary. It was amazing.

But after many years of protecting his eyes from various elements and fluids, the lenses were cracked beyond repair, the elastic band was frayed and close to breaking. The original yellow-tint had turned orange, though he had to admit that might have been due to how he was using them.

It was sad to see such a treasured article fall into such disrepair, but he knew it was time.
He grabbed the new ones and tried them on. Just like before, not adjustments were necessary, and he could see so clearly through these new ones. It sparked his imagination at the things he could now attempt without the distraction of things falling into his eyes. 

Taking them off, he smiled and smelled the rubber and plastic odors that combined to an amazing mix of artificial pleasure that seemed to rejuvenate him. It had been a few months since he had been out and about being his naturalist-self, people watching from huts, behind bushes, around corners, or even from secret nooks that people seemed to always forget about in their own homes.

He was ready to start again.

​And he smiled.
]]>Tue, 13 Oct 2020 05:02:50 GMThttp://raviswritings.org/fiction/writing-prompt-when-dolphins-ruled-the-earth​When Dolphins Ruled the Earth, by Ravi Hayashida
Prompt Submitted by Vikki Westerkov
​
Pod 1 left the Bay. Travelling in groups was always the best way to go, as far as Lacey thought. Togetherness, harmony, and protection against other predators. She especially hated the killer whales that just seemed to come out of nowhere. Thankfully, the tech lab based out of the Oceanic Coastal Waters had developed a very accurate sensing device that, when attached to their tails, would send a small shock if something was looming behind them. Time and again it had proven effective enough to allow fellow dolphins to flee.
Also, with a bit a evolutionary luck, dolphins were always just a bit smarter than those large predators.
Without any apparent communication, the pod suddenly changed direction and, like a well-oiled machine, they moved as one. The lead, Hiram, was sniffing out where the next feeding spot was located. Occasional high pitched squeaks gave Hiram and a few others that were attuned to it the clues they needed to find an especially nice group of tasty fish. This is what Lacey loved the most: freedom to swim, together when the whole pod would benefit, but also the liberty to stay behind if she wasn’t particularly feeling it. There was no pressure, and every member of hers, and other pods, felt the same way. It was such a glorious feeling.
With the world being more than 75% water, there were a multitude of places to go, and she had been to them all. From the warmest waters to the almost painfully frigid oceans of the north and south, Lacey had been able to take advantage of her ability to explore.
She had heard legends of dolphins from the Way-Back time that this freedom wasn’t always the case. In fact, there were land-based life forms that seemed to dominate the land and oceans. Some even hunted dolphins. It was strange to her that there would have been a life form that benefitted from hunting dolphins. Other than hunting some of the same food sources, there was really no need. It just seemed silly.
Hiram’s great grandfather was reportedly a survivor of those dark times. The stories he would tell of humans hunting or, sometimes, capturing dolphins for no reason. He even said that some dolphins were forced to perform the most absurd tricks to ensure their own survival. No one believed him, but he was adamant that this happened. He did have several scars that no one could really explain away as they didn’t appear to be from natural sources like rocks or coral. Not even shark attacks would leave those kind of scars.
But, the old man was insistent, and he did tell the best stories, so growing up, she and the other younglings would gather around and listen, mesmerized by the outlandish environments he concocted.
Those were good times as well.
There was one story about a dolphin that claimed to have been captured and had tried to actually communicate with these land beings. To do this, he had tried to learn their language and tried really hard to reach out to them, to explain how intelligent we were and how we could help them live in this world in harmony. Foolish beings didn’t seem to understand and, for some odd reason, they employed some quite disturbing tests and behaviors to force him to speak their language. All that he could come up with was this odd word, “hand”. He never did go any further with explaining what they did to him, poor creature.
But as time went on, the land beings eventually were eliminated. The structures they left behind were still visible from the shores if they went close enough. But since dolphins had no ability, and no real interest, in travelling overland, they never explored any further than coasts.
However, one of the great discoveries was that these beings seems to like to harvest fish and create areas where the tastiest fishes would spawn and grow. This made hunting so much easier. It was so nice of them to leave these hatcheries behind. She wanted to thank them for all the fish, if they would have still been around.
Soon, Pod 1 had reached one of the hatchery areas where the fish had grown old enough for them to harvest and feast.
It was good to be a dolphin. Why would anyone want to be anything else?]]>Thu, 23 Mar 2017 21:26:05 GMThttp://raviswritings.org/fiction/a-day-dreaming-how-to-sleeping-promptWanna get away?

That's the Southwest Airline's slogan, at least not too long ago. 

In case you're wondering, I do, most definitely. When at work, I'm always away. (Speaking of which, did you count the number of 'W's I used in that last sentence? That was for your poets out there.)

Day dreaming is my profession. Yes, that's right: I'm a professional Day Dreamer. How can anyone get paid for that, you might ask? It's all about getting away with it, as in you 'wanna get away' with it.

Obviously, if you get caught, the consequences can be pretty extreme. For example, you could get fired. 

Yup, that's it. Isn't that enough?

But more pointedly, you won't get paid any more and that's the real bummer about it. 

So, how to do it? First, you must have a job where you don't have to walk around too much. I found out by accident that walking and day dreaming can lead to uncomfortable meetings with the local HR Rep. There are just some questions you don't want to answer completely honestly for fear of looking like an idiot.

Don't drive while day dreaming. That's for amateurs. You know, the ones that get into accidents and actually hurt people. Look, I won't say that I haven't had the occasional fantasy while driving, but I snap out of it pretty quickly. That's what the pros do. Keep away from the amateurs who'll get you and your family killed.
 
Next, you need either a computer screen that your job needs you to be on most of the time. This makes it easier to sell the 'staring off into space' look that most day dreamers get when they're really into their day dreams.

Another thing is to not act out your day dreams. All you Day Dream Rock Stars know what I'm talking about. No air guitar, air drum, air sing, or what have you. That's a sure fire way to get caught. And that's another awkward conversation with HR. Just trust me on that one.

Lastly, no snoring. I think that speaks for itself.

So, you've cleared your work calendar, you're staring at an active computer screen. Now what? Well, Day Dream away!

The funny thing about day dreaming is that part of you is still somewhat aware of your surroundings. If you are quick enough, you can click your computer screen just as it goes on to your pre-set screen saver. Even better, have the image of your screen saver be a spreadsheet or another professional looking document so it looks like you're working hard, no matter what's really going on.

The downside to this is that it lulls you into that deceptively welcome environment tempting you to go to sleep. While on the job. This is a big no-no: 

First, you lose control of your surroundings so you probably won't wake up when the boss walks by;

Second, you will snore. It doesn't matter if you usually do or not. Because you're at work and you're sleeping, you're going to snore. Yeah, deal with it;

Third, you'll lose your job. 

With all of these warnings and issues, what's the benefit of Day Dreaming?

It's fun. It's free. And it gets you through the day.

Now stop reading this, prep your work station, and get away.

 


]]>Wed, 15 Feb 2017 20:25:23 GMThttp://raviswritings.org/fiction/dreaming-writing-prompt[Edited for grammar 02/27/2017 - RH]

Dreams. They are a source of fun, fantasy, and horror. Drifting off to sleep, the dreamer can never be fully aware of where their dreams will go. 

Henry once dreamed of being a basketball star, leading his team to the Championship Finals, making a key steal, driving down the court, side stepping a defender or two, then dishing it off to a teammate for a 3-point, game-winning shot. Henry's dreams were very deliberate and usually centered on wish-fulfillment. In reality, Henry was only five foot, three inches tall, overweight, and had significant health issues that prevented him from exerting himself beyond ten minutes.

Sally's dreams were more varied, reaching new territories and far-off lands populated with horses, unicorns, elves, and the occasional grocery store that would double as a labyrinth when she was being chased. Sally was a very introverted thirteen year old girl with few friends, but enjoyed movies and TV shows that stretched the bounds of imagination. She was an adventurer at heart and clung to her dreams tightly, never sharing them with anyone, as if telling anyone of them would diminish their magic and rob her of all energy they gave her.

Horacio, however, was a different kind of dreamer with a different range of experiences. He was known as Horace to his friends as only his parents ever called him by his full name. When he dreamed, he would be transported to unknown buildings and rooms where the faces of people there were always blurred even though his surroundings were crystal clear. He would engage with the other characters in these dreams, some of whom would feel familiar yet their response and stature always would be a bit off. These were people in only the most basic sense of the word. Yet, he would feel comfortable for a while, until something or someone else would trigger a series of events, whether heroic or horrific, and the sense of pursuit would always be included. Sometimes he would be the hunter, but he was usually the one being the hunted.

Last night, he dreamt that he was in a grocery store walking down the many aisles, shopping, with figures that appeared to be his old high school friends. When he turned a corner, however, he felt something was starting to chase him. He shouted a warning out to his friends, but they disappeared into the shelves themselves and he was left alone. running along the tall shelves of canned goods. The grocery aisles stretched with unreal elasticity, defeating his hopes of ever reach the end to turn the corner to safety. Looking back, the entity had no form, just a dark foreboding that continued to chase him.

Somehow, he reached the end of the stretched aisle and as he turned the corner, he found himself in the middle of a farm. Fields of wheat to his right, traditional red barn to his left, and no sign of the grocery store or the grocery aisle anywhere he looked. Yet the dark essence continued to pursue him and he ran. His initial thought was to enter the barn for protection, but he ran into the wheat field instead, suddenly thinking he could out run whatever it was that was hunting him, that maybe he could get lost among the tall wheat and confuse the entity.

Horace could feel his heart pumping, pumping so strongly that it felt like the beating muscle would burst through his chest, apparently making so much noise that the pursuer would find him that much sooner. Thinking this only made his heart beat even faster, forcing him to run at speeds he never knew he was capable of.

In the fields, he could feel the crunch of the clumps of dried soil and he could smell the scent of dry wheat along with the slightly acidic punch of the nitrogen that fed the crops. He couldn't stop running, but his senses were all on fire, his heavy gasps for air, the burning of his thighs from running, the sounds of the fields, each crunching step on the soil, and the sound of his beating heart and heavy breathing. Running was all he knew and he feared more than anything what would happen if he should ever stop. Whatever would happen, he just knew it would have been a terrible fate, one that promised to be painful.

He ran until he had no where else to run. The field ended and before him was a cliff with nowhere else to go but down. Looking down, breathing heavily still, he thought for just a moment that he could fly, and then he took a leap.

He felt himself fall, with no end in sight, his stomach reaching up through his throat, preventing him from screaming as he fell. There was no relief to be found. His powers of flight failed him. Fear combined with the shock of sudden disappointment filled him with regret for not choosing a wiser path. He continued to fall.

And then he landed on something soft.

Horace woke up, sweating. He felt himself land on his back, the springs of his bed absorbed the impact and cushioned his fall.

He caught his breath and looked around and found himself back in his room. He could see sunlight peaking through the edges of his window curtains, promising a beautiful day. 

He had been dreaming. Again. And he survived to dream another day.

And then he wondered if his friends made it as well.]]>