Writing Challenge #43

WEEKLY CHALLENGE #43

1. CHALLENGE: Write a short scene, no more than 250 words, showing your character helping someone in need. What type of situation is your character most likely to stop and assist in? This can range from helping a child study to walking an elderly person across the street or can be giving the person ahead of them in line a few dollars when they are short on their bill.

The idea for this challenge is to get to know your characters and what drives them to do certain things. Don’t tell us what they are doing… show us. Good luck!

INVITE YOUR FRIENDS! Not a requirement to enter, but we would absolutely love to see more people entering these challenges. So if you know any writers who might enjoy them, send ’em over!


2. COMMENT:
 You MUST comment on FOUR other entries to qualify. If you do not, your entry will be disqualified from the challenge. Give and take… Keep the cycle going.

3. IMPORTANT In order to qualify, you MUST vote for your TOP TWO choices. If you don’t vote, you cannot win this challenge (even if you receive the most votes!). To vote, you need to reply to the email that goes out for the Weekly Challenges. In that email, if you scroll to the bottom, you will see all the information you need to vote for this challenge.

You need to join our mailing list in order to receive the weekly voting email

4. DEADLINE: Tuesday, September 26th at 11:59 p.m. PST. Voting booth will open for this challenge on Wednesday, September 27th, and the winners will be announced the following Wednesday, October 4th.

THIS CHALLENGE IS OPEN TO ALL MEMBERS!

Have fun!

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Author Notes

75 Comments for “Writing Challenge #43”

says:

Let’s see if you can figure who helped who?

Jeremy walked on his favorite grassy path, through the thick green forest filled with colorful trilling birds, and wind that made the pines sing. Today, he was deep in thought about what he was going to do after graduating high school. He thought about what he liked: hiking, teaching, outdoors stuff, health and fitness, and animals of all kinds. What would all this stuff have in common? He kept pondering when around the bend he saw the most beautiful sight, a newborn deer. She was laying in the grass, not far from a small stream. The fawn was heavily spotted and small. He looked around for the mother but didn’t see her. Jeremy quietly sat on a log away from the fawn, just to watch the magnificence of it all. Sitting there, he realized what it was that brought him on this same trek he took every week. It was the outdoors and the wonders of wildlife. That was his love.
A half-hour later, the mother walked haltingly to her baby. She made a sound to her baby and the fawn stood on shaky legs and nuzzled under his mother for the nectar of life. Jeremy sat still, mesmerized by the scene, and the sounds of the forest. The lush green of the plants and trees, and the earthy smells. And mostly, the scene that God put right in front of him. “That’s it,” he thought – The outdoors and wildlife. That was what he wanted.

Julie Jackson

says:

Very pretty and descriptive. I see a lot of help, in different directions. The mother deer helped the baby, and they helped him figure out what he wanted to do with his life. Nicely written!

Jerrica Wiley

says:

Jacob was not a nice guy. As a matter of fact he was a complete asshole. So what was it that prompted him to help the old lady across the street? Not kindness that’s for sure. More like pure annoyance. At least that’s how he described it. He was annoyed that it was taking her an hour to get across the street. He was annoyed that the street light for pedestrians to stop crossing was flashing. He was annoyed that the cars were honking at her because she was taking so long and he honestly didn’t feel like watching an old lady get rolled over by an eighteen wheeler. So like the asshole that he was, he promptly stomped to the middle of the street, threw the old lady over his shoulder and basically dropped her once he reached the other side safely.

“You’re welcome,” He grunted at the old woman with the roll of his eyes.

What he expected was a word of gratitude, but what he received was a slap across the face before she strutted off (at a quicker pace than the one she’d used crossing the street, he notice). It was in that moment that he instantly thought to himself, damn I should’ve just let the old bitty die.

PS: I DON’T HATE OLD PEOPLE LOL.

says:

I thought the story cute. You told us right off that the main character was not a nice man. But in this situation, he felt the pull to honor his role as a man, and “Help” her across the street, even though it was a rather abrupt way. Even though the man chose to take her rather brutally across the street, and expected a thank you, I can see why the old woman would take offense at this. Good job of bringing the scene together.

Anisa Claire

says:

Hahahaha! This actually made me laugh out loud. You don’t have to say you don’t hate old people. We understand that there are all kinds of characters and as writers, we have to slide into all different kinds of skins when we’re writing. This was funny piece and sometimes in the city, I see this kind of impatience.

Anisa

reigny dai

says:

Great story. It’s basis is realistic. Older people can be slow, and it can annoy others. I loved the exaggeration of her taking an hour to cross the street. All people exaggerate like that, at times, so again, I felt a genuine quality to your piece. Older folks are often feisty, too, as Jacob learned.

Craig Lincoln

says:

We stood as one around the hospital bed looking down on Dad. The machines keeping him alive were only making pain for all of us to live with. One by one My eldest brother asked the question because our Mother couldn’t to two sisters and four brothers a choice to make. When it came to me I knew what was right to end everyone’s pain and so I said yes. The machines were turned off and our pain changed it was still there but better now.

charles stone

says:

There’s a cigar stump size, clean-shaven, very dark skin Black man, struggling with one of those industrial trash dumpsters on wheels. The two roller casters on the right side of the dumpster have slid off the stone path and are mired in the cold, wet deep-rutted dirt. He looks around the edge of the dumpster when I toss the bag onto the closed lid.
“You trying to make my job harder, stranger?”
A mixture of question and annoyance on his flat, plain face.
“No, sir”, I offer my hand. “James Brown is my name, I’m trying to help.”
“Duane Michaels”, he says, “thanks.”
I get on the other side and push. No one speaks for a minute, we get the dumpster back on the broken path.
He dresses me up and down, shading his eyes against the sun. “You looking for work, James?”
“I not against hard work, Duane, but I could really use a place to lay it down for a few days.”
Still looking at me hard. “You running from something, the law?”
“No, sir.”
He nods his head toward the parking lot. “That’s who you need to talk with.”

Anisa Claire

says:

Sounds like a piece to a much bigger story. Good writing, Charles! I was a little hung up on the ‘cigar stump’ description. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before and had a hard time visualising it. Lol. Short???

Anisa

Tim Hillebrant

says:

Michelle did a good job of it, but she wasn’t hiding anything from anyone. She had things going on in her life, and they were weighing her down. Her face screamed it even while she said something else. I had to look away to keep from meeting her eyes as I walked by. She didn’t need to know the gift card to her favorite beauty salon was from me.

says:

Hi Tim. It’s been a while.

I’ve always enjoyed your writing. I didn’t know where this was going at first and then you summed it up in the last sentence. Well done. What woman wouldn’t want a surprise gift like that? I am wondering what is happening in this woman’s life that he knows about. Good writing and making me think. Liked it.

says:

After the kids were in bed, Clive got up and knelt beside his mother-in-law, taking her chapped clasped hands in his. “Would you like a glass of wine?” He asked.

Nina sniffed into a tissue and blew her nose. “Only if you’ll join me.”

Clive let go of her hands and went into the kitchen. He poured two glasses of Merlot and returned to the parlor. He sat down beside her. “Your daughter is in good hands with excellent doctors and a caring staff.”

“I’ll be nervous when I see Janice tomorrow. Who was to know?” She raised her glass questioningly. “We thought she was being wild and out-of-control when all along she was bipolar – a self-destructing disease when not treated.”

Clive drew a deep breath. “Don’t expect too much when you see Janice, Nina. She’s restless and overreacts. She cries easily. Of course the mood-swings are partially due to the meds she’s taking.” He added with a little hope. “But it’s the first time she said to me, ‘I’m sorry.’”

Nina made the sign of the cross. “Whatever happens to my daughter is God’s will.”

“As soon as you feel comfortable that things are going well,” Clive continued, “I’ll drive you to Indian Falls. You’ll need a good dose of home, a good friend and mining old bottles.” He leaned his head back against the couch and felt the muscles relax in his shoulders. At last, he and his family were facing their demons and not running from them.

says:

Hi Patricia. It’s good to see you here. Of course, I love Nina and her bottle hunting.
The story was realistic and happens to the best of families. I enjoyed the friendship of Clive and Nina. Getting her mind off the situation with the bottle hunting was a nice touch. Nicely done.

Anisa Claire

says:

Oranges tumbled down the road, one after another, following the natural cracks and curves as they went. My eyes traveled up from the source only to spot a crumpled body on the sidewalk ahead, surrounded by fallen grocery bags.

I moved quickly to reach the person, squatting down when I arrived. “Are you okay?” I asked, loudly.

“Yes, fine. Thank you. Just tripped on thin air, as usual,” the heap of human lying before me answered back.

In that moment, I knew I had found one of my people for I, too, often ate dirt after tripping on nothing. I knew exactly what to do, and began tossing spilled items back in the bags as I whispered, “I fully understand. I trip on air all the time. I’ll just gather your stuff up quickly and be on my way then so you can walk it off.”

The person laughed and away I went, knowing the pain of pride can often outweigh the pain of the fall.

Julie Jackson

says:

Love it! I like a lot of the phrasing here: “heap of human” and “ate dirt”. Getting someone to laugh after they’ve embarrassed themselves is always appreciated. Nice!

Julie Jackson

says:

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?”
I jumped at the sound of my buddy’s voice, and glanced guiltily look down at the needle in my arm. The nurse sitting beside me shot us both a dirty look, but said nothing.
“I’m giving blood, man. What the hell does it look like?”
He rolled his bleary eyes and snorted his disapproval. “It looks like you blew off drinking with us again last night for more of your charity bullshit.”
I glanced around the blood drive, set up in front of a children’s hospital, for more of my “buddies”.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked.
“I didn’t. I was going to get something for this hangover and I saw that fucking Challenger in the lot,” he spat. “Ever since you got that car, and started obsessing over the last owner, you haven’t been good for shit, man.”
He was right, I guess. I had found her, despite her brother insisting she didn’t want to be found. And she was spending her life in countries whose names I could not pronounce, hiking up hills and through mud to take medicine and supplies to people on the brink of death.
And what had I been doing? Getting blackout drunk every other night, and stoned on the nights in between. I had bought the car because it was beautiful; I was inspired to change who I was because she was beautiful. Despite my friend’s anger, I regretted nothing.

charles stone

says:

Nice. That’s so heavy helping but what about the MC’s motivation? It doesn’t seem to be pure, or maybe it’s just me. Write On.

Tim Hillebrant

says:

Sometimes, all it takes is the right motivation at the right time, to get things done you might not otherwise do. Loved the way you showed this!!

Well done, mi Amiga!!

🙂

says:

Hi Julie. This was a downright good story At first I thought the guy was doing drugs until I read on. I liked how the car was what made a difference in his life. and the person that he trekked through the forests to help others. You have to read between the lines to get the connection, so I hope I got it. Nicely done.

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