Marcus studied during the school year and worked for Mr. Jacobson during the summers and by the time he graduated, he was offered a position managing the crews for the company. He agreed, thankful for the opportunity to work somewhere that would offer him a measure of stability and for six months he began to save.
One day in late August, he invited Eva to join him on a walk near the river near the campus to a place they had spent many starlit evenings before going to dinner. They walked down by the river until they found ‘their’ spot. A small overlook that hid them from view, but from which they could see the swimmers in the summer and the ice skaters in the winter.
Turning the last bend in the path revealed a warm woolen blanket, on which there was a bottle of wine, a small picnic basket and two burning candles. Read more
Writing Prompts
Another Winter Gone – 23
The war ended and with it, Marcus’s engagement in the military. He took his money from the GI bill and enrolled in classes at what would later become St. Cloud State University. He took a room in a boarding house not far off of campus and worked in the summers painting railroad bridges on a moving crew. They pay was not bad, but it went much further for Marcus than many of the other men, because he neither drank, nor gambled. His mother, a staunch teetotaler instilled temperance in him from an early age, though time would soften his stance.
Knee-deep in the surety of youth, he believed water was the best thing to ingest where possible and due to his love of tea, he managed to avoid the problems that others might run in to, had they insisted from each lake and river, wherever possible.
Unlike his mother, he didn’t see drink as evil, merely unnecessary. He understood the need for the men to relax after a hard day’s work and why seeing the obliteration of drunkenness was attractive- especially the guys who’d also been “over there.” No, he did not begrudge the veterans their liquor. On one occasion, it was either the anniversary of VE day, or the Normandy invasion, he raised a glass to absent friends and lead the men in a drinking song most of the Veterans seemed to know. It was this character of being both strict with himself and knowing how to win friends that won him the loyalty of the men in his crew, just as it had won him the loyalty of the men in his squad. Read more
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Another Winter Gone – 22
Upon entering the dance, Marcus was struck. Both by how fancy they’d made everything and how plain the buildings were back in Saint Cloud. He remembered some of the dance halls he’d seen in some of the smaller towns they’d occupied and how much grander they seemed, with no ornamentation added on. Like a girl who was still pretty with no makeup and after a swim. He smiled to himself and decided that wasn’t a bad criteria for determining if a girl was pretty.
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Another Winter Gone – 21
Marcus slung his duffel bag over his shoulder as he got off of the greyhound bus. There waiting at the station were his father and mother. His father gave him a salute, which he returned. Then, his mother’s patience broke and she ran to him with tears in her eyes throwing her arms around he boy- safely returned home. Marcus held his mother tight and whispered his greeting to her. Then she released the hug, stepping back to see the man her boy had become.
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Another Winter Gone – 20
“You’re becoming a man.” Said Marcus’s Father. “I’m proud of you for doing your part for your country..”
“Of course dad, You fought the Germans in the Great War. You did what you had to to stop the Kaiser. How is this any different?”
“Hmph. Do you even know what we’re fighting for?”
“We’re fighting to give the people over in Europe a chance to be free from Hitler and his Nazis.?”
“I never stopped fighting Jack. Bullies are always bullies and if you don’t stop them, they just grow more and more powerful.” Then his dad grew serious. “Marcus, I don’t wish this on you. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”
“What’re you trying to say Dad?”
“Marcus, I know you need to go over there. It’s part of who we are. We do the work that needs doing. I just don’t want you to go to war. When you get- if you get back, you’ll understand.”
“If I get back? What kind of talk is that?”
“The truth. Marcus, I can’t tell you how many men I met and fought with and against who didn’t come home. Some of them just killed by mud, choking slow mud like quicksand that took days to kill a man. On top of that there was the gas attacks, the giant guns and every other means men could think of the kill each other and grind him under their boot heels. Do you know the maddest, craziest thing about war? Each one of us thought he was coming home.”
“Well dad, you just told me why I have to go then. I have to go to stand up to those bullies and do my best to make sure those guys get home.”
It was at that point that Marcus’s father extended his hand and Marcus shook it for the first time as a man.
The war brought everything promised. Death, destruction, the kind of camaraderie that can only exist between those who have faced death together and been lucky enough for death to blink first. Marcus learned a lot from Sgt. Wurm and the lessons stayed with him. Overall, the military was a good experience for him, it took the raw ore of his character, smelted it in training, tempered it in battle and left him a stronger, more solid man than he might have otherwise become. When his time overseas came to an end, he returned home and embarked on an adventure greater and more meaningful than any that war could throw at him.
Her name was Rosemary.
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Another Winter Gone – 19
“It’s a bad idea Jack.” Said Marcus. “Now isn’t the time to go on some fool crusade.”
“What’re you talking about dad? You fought the Germans in World War II. You were over there, doing what you needed to for your country. How is this any different?”
“You want to know how it’s different? We haven’t been attacked. Do you even know what you’re fighting for?”
“Do you know why you stopped fighting?” Read more
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On certain regional pronunciations
Another Winter Gone – 17
Marcus woke up to a layer of winter snow 8 inches thick covering the land as far as the eye could see. Some cold had gotten into the cabin, which he chased out by stirring the coals in his fire and adding some wood from the pile nearby. He had a propane heater of course, but the company didn’t come by often enough to fill it for daily use and besides, he liked the exercise.
Seeing the pile had dwindled to the last two or three split pieces, he put on his coat and hat, his boots and mitts and went out to the wood pile. The snow gave his footsteps a muffled quality that seemed to absorb sound rather than make it.
Marcus unfurled the canvas log carrier he’d made from an old Duluth Pack that had done it’s years of service and was now enjoying a mostly dry retirement by the fire. He conscientiously knocked the snow off each one before before placing it into the sling. It was this noise in the otherwise silent forest and the snow that muffled the approaching footsteps behind him.
Someone cleared their throat. “Mr. Marcus?”
He turned around. There in front of him was the girl who he’d rescued from the Snowmobile accident on his land at the beginning of the winter. She was dressed in a red fur-lined down parka, snow pants and snow shoes and had a small green canvas back on her back. and “It’s-“
“Jessica, yes.”
“Even at my age I’m not likely to forget.”
“I suppose not.” she said.
“Well, what can I do for you? I don’t see any downed snow mobiles, nor do I see any wolves chasing you. To what do I owe this visit Ms. Jessica?”
“Well actually, I wanted to thank you for your help the other day.”
“No need for that. I just did what anyone did.” He hoped his voice wasn’t too gruff but wasn’t sure. He attempted to put a twinkle in his eye under the stern expression.
It must’ve worked, because the tension broke with her smile and Jessica asked, “Can we go inside?”
Marcus nodded his assent and they headed back in muffled silence to the log cabin with the smoking chimney.
Once inside, they stamped off the snow from their boots and hung the coats on the back of the door. Jessica pulled up a footstool by the stove and warmed her hands. Marcus gave her time to get settled before either of them spoke.
“Thank you Mr. Marcus, I really don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come by.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. He very kindly did not point out that they both knew what would have happened if he hadn’t happened by.
“Well, I know it’s not much, but I brought you this.” From her pack she brought out a pie and a thermos. The pie appeared to be still warm, having been wrapped in a box and a towel to keep out the cold.
Marcus raised an eyebrow in pleased surprise. “Well this is a surprise. Usually, isn’t it the grandmother who receives the goodies and is saved by the woodsman at the last minute? Not that I’d mind being rescued by a grandmother, assuming she was a stout handsome woman.” He held his grave expression before breaking into a grin. “This is very kind, but unnecessary Jessica, you didn’t have to go to the trouble.”
“It was no trouble, I needed to use the last of the Rhubarb we froze this summer and there wasn’t enough to make preserves. Besides, I heard it was your favorite.”
“From who?”
“From the waitress over at the Chocolate Moose. She says you come in once a week when they have it and order a a coffee with cream and sugar and a slice of rhubarb pie, with a side of ice cream.”
“hmph.” he said and then immediately brightened as she brought out a small container of ice cream. He got up and set to the task of setting the table, bringing out red and blue Fiestaware dishes, saucers and mugs. The forks for the pie and spoons for the coffee were real silver, old, but serviceable. Out of the drawer, he pulled a second place mat and cloth napkin and set it down opposite his own.
After they’d eaten, he wiped the last crumbs out of his beard and focused on the girl.
“That was the best pie I’ve had in a long time.” He said, “Do you know why?”
“Lard in the crust?” she asked. He smiled.
“Good company. But yeah, the lard in the crust helps too.” He sat back quietly for a moment and thought a bit before getting up to stoke the fire. “What is it you really want Jessica?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Well, it occurs to me that you’ve come some way out here with something on your mind and it’s more than just bringing an old man some pie. So, what’s on your mind?”
“Well… I’m not sure how to say this, but I’d like to be like you.”
“What do you mean? Old? Cantankerous? Keen on pie?”
“No, it’s just that most people I know wouldn’t have known how to help me, or might not have noticed that any help was needed. I feel like it makes sense that if I can learn how to be that person, I should be that person.”
This opened a wound in Marcus that he’d managed to ignore most days. It was Jack’s words coming back to him from the mouth of this girl.
“Oh I don’t know about that. Lot of meddling foolishness helping people. I was just being neighborly. I don’t go out of my way looking for trouble.” he said.
“I’m not so sure that’s true. And even so, I want to learn the skills it takes to help people who are stuck in the woods, or need help somehow. I’m not taking about becoming a cop or joining the army.” Another pang.
“Hmph, that would put you in the role of young apprentice and me in the role of old hermit. Not sure I relish becoming the old hermit. Too many of them die before the hero is properly trained.”
“Then don’t die,” she said. “I’m sure you had no plans to before I came by this morning. I don’t see why you should change them just to give me drive to accomplish things on my own.”
“What’s your dad think of all this?”
“He hasn’t said anything against it.”
“Because he hasn’t heard anything about it, am I right?” Jessica looked away a bit sheepishly.
“I did raise kids of my own, you know. I’m older and meaner and craftier than you, so don’t think you can pull one over on my missy.” he remembered to but the ‘kindly old man gleam’ in his eye at just the last minute. “Normally, I believe that it’s customary to make a would-be apprentice wait outside in all weather for three days and nights to test their resolve, but as it’s winter in Minnesota and you’ve just brought me pie…”
“Yes!”
“… I’ll have to meet your dad and get his approval. I’m not so sure most dads would like their daughter hanging out with some old guy they’ve never met. If- and I mean if, you get his approval, you’ll start out helping me around the place and I’ll pay you for your work. If you can handle the work, you might just learn what it is that makes me, me. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes sir!”
“Good. Now I have one more question for you,” he said gravely.
“What is it?”
“Would you like another slice of pie?”
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The Walker – Outline 1
Here is the first-draft outline of a story I’d like to write about Jack, a young man whose magic ability mostly manifests in his ability to travel long distances.
Jack is a freelance courier and through a case of mistaken identity ends up being chased by two groups who want a magical object a prospective client wanted him to carry. The only problem is that he didn’t take the job. Now, to survive, he’ll have to outrun the bad guys, outwit the good guys and find the object before anyone else can get their hands on it. That’s the easy part. What the hell is he supposed to do if he gets his hands on it?
Working title: The Walker
Genre: Modern Fantasy
Tense/POV: Present Tense, First Person
Setting: Modern world, various settings, mostly urban.
Part One
Inciting Incident: A small man comes to the door asking Jack to courier a package to his brother in Wales. He turns the man down, who offers him money to think about it and then leaves, promising to call back again.
Internal Initial Conflict (call to action): Jack wants to be out of the line of fire and back to a life of being paid little attention. He can’t have this because the small man was seen leaving his apartment and the guys watching assume he’s taken the job.
External Initial Conflict (call to action): Jack wants to survive.
Woven-in Backstory, Vital Information: Jack works as a freelance courier for the supernatural world. Awhile back, he rescued a Kitsune (fox spirit) from a trap, who decided she owed him her loyalty after that and would help him to achieve his potential, whether he likes it or not.
Part Two
Internal Conflict (obstacles): Jack grew up in a rough neighborhood. One where escape and escaping notice from the predators in the waters was the surest means of survival. Escaping the bullies at school was how he discovered his powers in the first place.
External Conflict (obstacles): He can’t give the package to the guys who want it, because he didn’t take it. They won’t accept his assertion that he doesn’t have it.
Internal Higher Conflict (obstacles heighten): Threats go from verbal to property damage with threats of bodily harm if he doesn’t get it for them. He can’t turn back because if he does, they’ve threatened his life and the life of Kitsune.
External Higher Conflict (obstacles heighten): An enemy of the mooks who are after him want him to deliver the package to him instead. Unfortunately, the small man is nowhere to be found.
Internal Highest Conflict (obstacles intensify): The small man is found dead and the object is said to be somewhere only Jack can find it.
External Highest Conflict (obstacles intensify): While backtracking to find the obstacle, Jack is abducted, hooded and tied up by the villains. When the hood is revealed, he sees that Kitsune has followed and is in the shadows. An attempt to free him fails, leading to her capture.
Internal Point of No Return (stakes): He realizes that they will never be safe, so long as the groups think that he is in possession of the MacGuffin and that he’s really the only one who can save her.
External Point of No Return (stakes): The fact that they know where he lives and will come for him if he runs.
Darkest Hour: The idea of being broken, alone and unable to escape. Being trapped in the earth.
Turning Point: Buried alive, he knows that he has to find a way to get out. A way to get Kitsune freed with him, before they run out of air. Picturing the location with no visual or tactile aid. Finding an out. Realizing that the small man was a liar and the answer was right at home.
Part Three
Internal Climax: They can travel by visualizing where they want to go, rather than by seeing it, or having an object linked to the place. How to reach into the inbetween with less energy than before. His fear of confrontation.
∧∨ (preferably simultaneous) ∧∨
External Climax: By pointing the gun at his own head and opening a portal at the last minute so the bullet hits the antagonist instead.
Resolution (external): It shows his willingness to fight back in a corner and leaves the antagonizing group leaderless? They are in disarray and start turning on each other.
Character Growth (internal): Now, no longer afraid of confrontation, he leaves with a new-found sense of purpose and some guilt about ending the confrontation with violence.
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Another Winter Gone – 15
“No.”
The word wasn’t shouted, but that didn’t make it any less of a command. Marcus, lean for his age and wearing the blue and white singlet that had been handed down to him by his father paused in the middle of his wind up. He’d suffered a humiliating and embarrassing defeat at the hands of an Jeffrey Linkletter. Linkletter. The guy’s name could be mistranslated as “Apostrophe” for gosh sakes. But Marcus recognized the tone. He lowered the head gear he’d been about to throw into the bleachers with what he just knew would be a satisfying bang.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His father asked.
“What d-“
“Who do you think you are?” Great, first the tone, now parental clichés.
“I only just…” The frustration was causing pressure to well up behind his eyes with the injustice of the world. He wanted to say that he was only twelve years old, that Jeffrey was a fish and shouldn’t have been able to beat him and that the ref had been unfair. He clenched his fists in frustration.
“Unclench your fists.”
“I can’t even be angry now?” What was Dad’s deal today, God!
“Marcus, you can feel any way you want. That doesn’t matter in the long run. What people will remember. What you will remember about today is how you react. You lost. Guess what? It happens. Should you have lost by getting rolled through from that headlock as you were pinning him in the first eight seconds of the match? No. Of course not. That’s your move. You own it. No one gets out of you. At least they haven’t for a long time, until today. Why’d it happen?”
This was what Marcus had been trying to avoid. Blame. He hated being blamed for things.
“Because I got too high and put weight in my butt instead of keeping it up and using leverage.” The words sounded dejected. Like a kid being forced to recite a bible verse when the minister drops by for a Sunday meal.
“Right.”
“How do you feel?”
“Stupid. Angry. Like a loser.”
“Do you like that feeling?” Marcus pulled a face.
“No. Of course I hate it.”
“Good. What are you going to do about it.”
“Well I was going to throw my head gear and feel better about it.” Marcus said.
“And what would that have helped?”
“Well, I would have felt better.”
“Sure, but what about after the first five seconds.” Marcus thought about it. He tossed his head like he was trying to get a bothersome fly to leave him alone. “I’d have felt stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate when people throw their headgear and stomp and act like little kids about losing, but Dad, I am a little kid.”
“135 lbs isn’t that little Marcus. And it’s not like there’s a day when you will suddenly feel like you’re old enough to be mature.”
“Yeah, but”
“The only way. The only way to be more mature- or improve yourself in any way- is to act as if you already have the good quality you want.”
“You mean like, if I want to be honest I have to tell the truth as if I’m already an honest person even if I’m used to ‘stretching’ the truth?”
“For example, yeah.” Marcus looked a bit sheepish. When he was younger, he’d been prone to tall tales and prevarication like most kids, but his ability to be funny enough to avoid trouble didn’t develop until much later. His dad smiled kindly at him.
“Huh.” Marcus thought for a moment, “So basically, you’re saying that if I want to have good sportsmanship I have to start doing it now.”
“Sportsmanship matters a little when you win, but it matters a whole lot more when you lose. That’s one of the reasons we do sports Mark. We’re all gonna lose in life at some point or other- maybe a lot. But it’s how we act when we lose that determines whether we get back up for another try and how much people want to help us when we go for another try.”
“Right, cause anyone can be tough when they win.”
“Right.”
“But only someone really tough can be tough when they lose.”
“Exactly. You got it. Now, what are you gonna do now?”
“I’m gonna focus and get ready for my next match so I can pin this guy and come back in the round robin.”
“Right. You mad?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Use it. Let it build slowly into focus so you can win. I want you to visualize how the match will go, what you’re gonna do and what he’s gonna do and I want you to get psyched up starting about 15 minutes before you get called. Start warming up when they call the 112’s okay?”
“Okay dad.”
Marcus couldn’t remember whether he’d won the next match or been out of the tournament. I was fairly certain that they’d gone out for ice cream after the match, just as he would do with his son Jack 20 years later. He thought about that lesson once in awhile and was glad he’d learned how to get up gracefully when he got knocked down.
There had been knocks much more difficult than losing to Linkletter and it was good he’d inoculated himself against them early in life. All in all he was glad he didn’t grow up to be the kind of guy who would throw his headgear.
