15,000 Words-in-a-month Challenge Update

Hi all. Just a reminder that the 15,000 word challenge begins in a couple of days. To inspire you, I have included two AI pictures of just how satisfying it can feel to try it out. You too can look like the woman below; dressed in a beautiful sweater, writing with a fountain pen with a glass of warm milk and looking totally made-up for a dinner party. 

Conversely, Bill, you and I might end up  looking like this handsome fellow in an equally splendid sweater pondering his next pithy phrase to add to his fantastic new novel. Note: it is ten past two by his clock  and he started writing his 500 words at 9 a.m. That's because he is using a 300 year old Remington with no correcting ability, so he might be at it a while.

Which is just to say, have fun with this challenge and don't worry about outcomes and expectations.

 January

The nights are dark

But the house is aglow.

The sky is dark but

brightened by snow.

Life can be dark

Until the light peaks in,

Let light overtake,

Let dark never win.

January theme of light and dark on a very dreary late December day. 

By:Nancy

The Lighthouse Keeper - Bill - Nancy - Bill

What an interesting turn of events! We have two continuing stories of the Lighthouse Keeper! Here is one. I will be looking at Adrian's addition to see what I can add. Stay tuned.  

The Lighthouse Keeper

The waves were crashing into the pier and travelling twenty feet straight into the air before landing. All those waves, when combined with the wind, had created a coat of ice over everything in sight. The lighthouse, being heated from the inside, had a much lighter coating of ice than its surroundings. Rather than being able to see each Christmas light, the ice covering made the whole lighthouse a gigantic light. Add to that the twirling light on the top, the building sent a shimmering sheen across the water.

The lighthouse keeper didn’t normally spend a lot of time up with the light. It was bright and hard on the eyes in the glass encasement atop the lighthouse. He came up to the top on Christmas Eve because when he looked back over the town he could clearly see all the lights lit up on the town's streets. It was a glorious picture that warmed his heart.

As he turned towards the stairs he noticed a flash of light out on the water. He moved closer to the rail and focused his eyes on the spot he saw light. He pulled his binoculars closer as he stood there. He saw the light emerge behind a wave. It would be tough going out there tonight. With skill a boat could make it to the inner harbour where a calmer scene awaited. He watched as the light bobbed before pulling up his binoculars to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Slowly the stricken boat inched its way towards the gap between the two piers.

The Lighthouse keeper raced down the stairs and started putting on his equipment to protect him from the raging storm. He added the kramp ons to his boots, hoping they would give him a bit more traction on the ice. 

He hurled himself out the door and worked his way down the pier as great waves of water covered him time and again. The wind worked to create an ice covering for his body. He worked his way over to where the boat had pulled up to the dock, grabbed a rope, and tied the boat to the dock.

“Hello," he called out.

A man in a bright red suit appeared from below deck. He looked a little green around the gills which may have been suitable for Christmas Eve but not so good otherwise.

“Hello," he called out, cautiously.

Continued by: Nancy

“What are you doing out on a night like this? It is not fit for man or beast?” the keeper yelled over the sound of the crashing waves. “Do you need a hand?”

“Oh, I need a hand alright, can you give me one?”

The keeper took a cautious step towards his visitor and even with the grips on his boots, he slid the last six feet and stopped just inches from the face of the guy in red. At close range, he noticed the white beard was tangled and matted and the hairs looked more like icicles than part of a beard. Did this guy chew tobacco or what? Brown stains coated in ice had tinted what might have been a white beard but it was the breath that caused the keeper to slide backwards. This stranded boater had to be over the limit.

“Steady now, it’s slippery and we don’t want to both take a swim,” the lighthouse keeper suggested as he extended his hand and arm. “Slow … easy… there we go…” When he was sure his visitor was upright and steady, he asked,”what is your name, anyways?”

“Some call me Nick, some of the time,” answered the guy in red.

“Well Nick, let’s go get you dried up and warm. The fireplace is warm and cozy in my quarters and I was just about to have some hot chocolate and a snack before bed. We can talk while we warm up and you can tell me your story. By the way, my name is Noel,” the keeper said.

“Thanks, it’s been a rough ride down from the cove. I should not have left in that weather but I was in a bit of a hurry,” Nick explained. “Wait a minute,… I forgot something in the boat. Here, help me over so I can get my things.” Noel waited a minute or two and then heard Nick banging up on the deck of his boat and reaching for a hand to steady himself as he stepped on the dock.

Carefully and cautiously, Nick passed Noel a big glass ball printed with big red letters ‘SALVATION ARMY’.

Continued by Bill

“Anything else?” asked Noel as he took hold of the big glass ball.

Nick went below deck again as the mist continued to cover Noel with frozen ice. Noel soon reappeared with a red sack that he carried rather gingerly. He boosted himself up onto the dock and followed Noel off to the Lighthouse Keepers quarters.

“I'll get you some dry clothes,” stated Noel. 

“No need to bother yourself,” replied Nick as he shook his red sack gently. He reached in and pulled out a Santa outfit that looked brand new. 

Noel wrinkled his brow but did not ask the obvious question. “Anything else in there?” inquired Noel.

Nick looked at Noel for a second before reaching into the sack. He began struggling with what appeared to be enormous weight as he wrestled and pulled out a portable power pack. “You might need this," he said as the lights flickered and died.  

Noel stood dumbfounded and then moved to begin plugging in the gigantic beacon on top of the lighthouse.

When he returned he found the table was set with a scrumptious meal, lit by candlelight. It appeared to have been freshly cooked although there was no sign of it having been prepared. Noel looked over at Nick. “Holly likes me to eat well,” was his reply to the look. 

As they sat down Noel asked Nick,”what is with the big glass ball?”

“On my travels down the coast I have talked to many people who like to donate to help the poor at this time of year.”

“But why a glass ball?”

“It is merely symbolic, and it’s not " replied Nick cryptically as he pulled the glass ball between them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins. “What do you see in the glass ball?” Nick asked.

Noel took a look into the glass ball from different angles. “There is nothing. It is brand new. The paint isn’t even marked up. Didn't you say that you collected money on your way down the coast?”

Nick’s eyes twinkled. “Indeed I did. Now watch carefully." He raised his hand, opened his fist to show the coins and then dropped the coins into the glass ball. Noel’s eyes followed the coins as they fell, and disappeared. 

“Hey,” yelled Noel, looking quickly up at Nick. 

“Instant deposit,” replied Nick. 

The Lighthouse Keeper - continued by Adrian

 

The waves were crashing into the pier and traveling twenty feet straight into the air before landing. All those waves, when combined with the wind, had created a coat of ice over everything in sight. The lighthouse, being heated from the inside, had a much lighter coating of ice than its surroundings. Rather than being able to see each Christmas light, the ice covering made the whole lighthouse a gigantic light. Add to that the twirling light on the top, the building sent a shimmering sheen across the water.

The lighthouse keeper didn’t normally spend a lot of time up with the light. It was bright and hard on the eyes in the glass encasement atop the lighthouse. He came up to the top on Christmas Eve because when he looked back over the town, he could clearly see all the lights lit up on the town's streets. It was a glorious picture that warmed his heart.

As he turned towards the stairs, he noticed a flash of light out on the water. He moved closer to the rail and focused his eyes on the spot he saw light. He pulled his binoculars closer as he stood there. He saw the light emerge behind a wave. It would be tough going out there tonight. With skill a boat could make it to the inner harbour where a calmer scene awaited. He watched as the light bobbed before pulling up his binoculars to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Slowly the stricken boat inched its way towards the gap between the two piers.

The Lighthouse keeper raced down the stairs and started putting on his equipment to protect him from the raging storm. He added the crampons to his boots, hoping they would give him a bit more traction on the ice.

He hurled himself out the door and worked his way down the pier as great waves of water covered him time and again. The wind worked to create an ice covering for his body. He worked his way over to where the boat had pulled up to the dock, grabbed a rope, and tied the boat to the dock.

“Hello," he called out.

A man in a bright red suit appeared from below deck. He looked a little green around the gills which may have been suitable for Christmas Eve but not so good otherwise.

“Hello," he called out, cautiously.

 

“Throw me your stern line and I’ll cleat ya down!” I bellowed above the roar of the wind and the waves. For some reason the water, usually much calmer at this point in the harbour, was in great turmoil this night. 'Wind must be coming  in straight off the  ocean,' I thought.

He turned aft and grasped the frozen rope between his raw hands and looked up, exasperation clouding his face.

“Can’t do it!” he shouted. “My hands are too numb, and the rope is like wire.”

I looked about and spotted a boat-hook hitched to a post halfway down the pier.

“Hang on! I’ll be right back!” I called down to him.

“Righty-o!” he replied, “I ain’t goin’ no place.”

Slipping and sliding I made my way down the pier. I was very cold now and I wondered how much more of this I could take without passing out. But somehow, I managed to grab the hook and staggered back to the sloop.

“Pass me the bitter end,” I called down, “Run it through the hawes hole, tie it off to your cleat and then put it on the hook.”

“I’ll try!” he replied.

I reached down with the pole while he managed to grab his line between two hands and somehow fed it through the hole. He tied a bowline knot stiffly into the line, hooked it onto the pole and despite the wild bucking of the boat I pulled the line back to the pier. Waiting for the boat to get as stable as possible, I looped the line around a cleat and made it fast. This brought the sloop to as close to the pier as I dared without crushing the hull.

“Throw some fenders over!” I commanded and in a moment two fenders appeared that were sufficient to ward off the heavy wood beams of the pier. The boat was still about two feet below the top of the pier however and I leaned forward and offered my hand.

“Wait until the boat is as high as possible and then take a jump! I’ll try to pull you up!”

He did as I asked and just as a wave pushed the boat up the pier I shouted “Now!”

He leapt and I grasped his ice-cold hand, and we fell together onto the pier, breathing heavily.

“Let’s get inside,” I shouted when I’d caught my breath, “before we end up frozen together out here until the spring. He gave a thin laugh.

"Merry Christmas," he managed to get out as together we made our way to the entrance of the lighthouse. 

 

 

Christmas Writing 34: The End: Peace On Earth

Thank you for the positive words concerning my Christmas writing.  I've reached the end for this year. Merry Christma. May all your days be Merry and Bright!

Peace On Earth

December 16, 2024

It’s Christmas morning. As I sit with my coffee looking at the decorations on the tree, the peaceful feeling comes through the strongest. There is no noise from outside the house. No cars zipping by at great speeds. No noisy people talking. No rushing to get things done. Nowhere in particular to go. No loud music playing. Just a quiet that envelopes everything. You can hear the crackling of the snow in the cool breeze. The snapping of the fire warms the house. A deer slowly walks by leaving footprints in the snow. The falling snow flutters quietly to the ground creating a sense of awe in the dawning morning light. It is so serene sitting here I wish it could never end. The tranquility of the moment touches me deeply.

The tree itself holds special memories. The decorations you inherited from your Parents or Grandparents are all there. Each one has a memory of shared placement on many trees. The decoration from your great Aunt that she hand crafted and painted. To others it is nothing special, just an ugly decoration. To you it means the warmth and kindness she demonstrated on the few visits you had with her. The Christmas Star that adorned your parents tree for many years until it was deemed “Old.” It now sits on your tree as a reminder of what once was. The memories each moment reflects back to enrich your heart. The lingering emotions each Christmas brought to your life come flooding back. The great joy you felt being with your family celebrating all things special.The smell of coffee and bacon as you lived in anticipation of what was under the tree. The shrill of voices as they spied the presents around the tree. The warm knowledge that love, on this day, did conquer all.  

Even this morning there is anticipation in the delighted Christmas voices. The warmth and laughter that fills the room as presents are opened. Kind words are uttered. The thoughts given to each gift choice are lovingly felt. After the opening the morning ritual of children playing and adults examining their gifts, where they are giving thought towards the possibilities that lie inherent in their gifts. The card playing and board games that ensue for the afternoon as the scent of cooking turkey fills the air. The special communications that happen today that repair torn edges and open doors that may not remain open the rest of the year. The meal where people truly are thankful for the work done in preparation for everything that has happened during the day. And then there is the after dinner rest while watching a Christmas movie. All traditions have been honoured.  

I can’t help but wonder if these feelings of Christmas are what families long ago experienced daily, where their lives continued on in quiet communities, where the distractions outside their homes were minimal. They worked together. Enjoyed meals together. Talked together about things that were important. They learned the responsibilities of contributing daily to make each day important in their lives. 

This Christmas morning I feel the warmth of something lost in everyday living. 

That is what makes Christmas so special. It holds the hope that somehow life is better when the creature comforts we all need boil down to one thing: feeling the love and joy of living. It captures in our hearts the hope and possibilities inherent in life, reminding us that there are better ways, that there are thoughts and feelings worth living for and that if we really want them we can have them. 

Peace on Earth? It all starts with that feeling on Christmas Day anything is possible.

As I sit here on Christmas morning thriving on the silence it brings I can’t help but wonder, How do we make it last?

Merry Christmas.

Christmas Writing 33: It’s A Green Christmas

 

It’s A Green Christmas

It’s green 

The grass is growing

It’s Christmas

It isn’t snowing

It’s so warm outside

I have to confide

I don’t need a jacket 

On my walk

The tree buds are starting

The birds haven't started flocking

The bugs are around

Making funny sounds

It’s almost January

What is going on?

They say

It’s global warming

El nino 

Is still forming

My sweater is nice and warm

Waiting for ice to begin to form

It’s almost January

What is going on?

There are years

When this seems to happen

People forget it every single time

The bears are not even napping

There are so many animals wandering around

I know

That I don’t mind

My heating bill 

Seems to be so kind

Save money and praise

The weather that has made

It so nice to be outside

It’s a Green Christmas

Around here 

Christmas Writing 32: Tradition

 

Tradition

December 15, 2024

The snow was piled high around the trees.

“How are we supposed to know if it’s a good one,” asked one of the twins. I handed her a shovel which thudded to the ground. 

“Mom,” she called out.

“You can’t expect her to shovel,” responded Annette.

I picked up the shovel and moved the snow quickly. Before I got half way done the verdict came down. “Not this one.”  That happened fifty times.

As we reached the van with the compromise tree, a small voice piped up from the rear seat. 

“Fake tree next year?” 

Losing the tradition seemed right.

Christmas Writing 31: Last Christmas

 

Last Christmas

December 14, 2024

The soft Christmas lights reflected off the tinsel bringing a warm glow to the room. The carefully arranged gifts under the tree sought to tell a story of success. Each decoration in the room was placed to demonstrate an understanding of how a house should be decorated for Christmas. Everything was in order as the hostess elegantly sat on her sofa, her eggnog waiting on the Christmas coaster. A small sound from the kitchen had her picking up and delivering her hors d'oeuvres to the food laden table. Her guests were beyond fashionably late. She eyed her success with love.

Christmas Writing 30: Up On The Housetop

 

Up On The Housetop

December 14, 2024

Is He Coming? (1919), Norman Rockwell

Seven year old Jonny had no idea of the time. He could have been asleep for minutes or for hours. The house was dark and getting colder as he slipped into his slippers in his efforts to get out of bed. He crept slowly down the stairs thinking about one of the great wonders in his young life: Did Santa really come down the chimney? The fireplace in this old house was big enough to accommodate Santa. When the fire was out he could stand in the fireplace and see blue skies above him. If there was a fire, how did he get around it? He stood there,in front of the fireplace for a long time considering all the options. Maybe Santa was fire proof. 

Suddenly there was a rustling noise behind him. Cautiously he moved his arm holding the candle around in front of his body and looked for the noise. 

“Stanley!” he cried out quietly. “What were you doing under the tree?” Stanley padded over wagging his tail wondering what Jonny had been up to. They both turned and got as close to the fireplace as the heat would allow. Santa had to be here soon. His parents were in bed. Now was the time. 

Jonny yawned as he stepped back from the fireplace. He walked over and sat on the couch. Stanley jumped up, circled and sat down beside him. Jonny looked at the tree and yawned again. Soon his head was nodding. He curled down further. Stanley snuggled closer. They both dropped off into a good sleep.

Jonny woke up with a start. The room was cold and dark. The fire had gone down to coals that sizzled red. Staley had moved on to a warmer spot.

In the faint light he could see that Santa had arrived and gone. 

He would have to wait for next year to solve this mystery. Slowly he gathered himself, checked out the Santa Gifts and returned to bed.