July Story, September Challenge, and More

9/8/2016

Well, friends, it's been a while since I last posted, hasn't it? Did you all miss me? :D

I'm here with a story--technically I didn't write it first for the July Writing challenge, but then I thought "Hey, this could work, and it would be a good chance to share some blog-love too!" So my friend Faith over on her blog Stories by Firefly had this super cute writing challenge here: http://fireflysstoryspace.blogspot.jp/2016/08/imagine-this-7.html and I just thought, "Aw, well why not?" Anyways definitely go check it out, it's a photo prompt and it's really adorable. I'll be posting the story I wrote for it down below, but please be wonderful and go take a look at her blog too. ;) She'll be posting my story (as well as other entries based off the photo) on her blog. :)

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A Picture of Truth

I snatched my hat off and wiped my brow. Boy, was it hot! I shifted my camera bag, then afraid it might somehow sense my grumbling attitude, gave it a loving pat. "I wouldn't trade you for the world, baby," I grinned. "You're all I got."
"Hey!" A curly-haired girl ran up to me, holding out a couple tickets. "Buy a ticket for the new movie mister? Eighty percent of the proceeds is going to the army."
"Army, huh?" I frowned. "Well, I ain't got any money. Sorry."
"You joining up, mister?" the girl trailed me as I pushed past and continued down the sidewalk.
"Not if I can help it." I snorted.
"There's a whole shipment of soldiers going out today at the train station."
"Look," I spun around and faced the girl. "What is with you?"
Her cheeks reddened, but I detected an odd glimmer in her brown eyes. "My daddy is somewhere in Europe by now, I guess."
I took a step back, sucking my breath in with surprise. "Sorry. I didn't mean-- I mean--" I shrugged helplessly. "Sorry. I ain't too good with words and-- and stuff. I didn't mean to make you cry."
"I'm not crying." She sniffed and her jaw jutted out. "But if you want some good pictures--" she jerked a thumb at my camera bag, "Then maybe you ought to get some of the men leaving. You know. Sell them to a newspaper or magazine as a look into real America or something."
"Say," I let out a long whistle. "That's a pretty keen thought. Thanks!" I was about to jog off when I chanced to take a look at her again and noticed the firm set of her mouth. Her arms were crossed and I felt as though I suddenly knew exactly what determination looked like. "Hey, can I come back when I'm done and take pictures of you?"
She tilted her nose up a bit. "Certainly not. But you can use that money you get from selling those pictures to buy War Bonds or something useful."
I grinned and held up my hands in surrender. "Ok, ok. Well, thanks for the tip-off." I darted away, clutching my bag to me. When I got to the train station I was puffing from exhaustion. I elbowed through the soldiers, trying to get in the midst of them for a chance at a good shot.
"Daddy!" I heard the shout of a little boy before I spotted him, dragging his mother through the crowd. "Daddy, you forgot to kiss me goodbye!"
The man leaned further out of the train. "Here, Jimmy," he called. Jimmy? I thought. Weird, that was my name. I slipped closer to hear better.
The mother lifted her little Jimmy up, and her husband reached down to reach him by the arms. The grab turned into an embrace--the kind that breaks your heart at the tightness of it. The father buried his nose in the little boy's collar as he kissed him.
The mother was silent, hanging onto the boy's ankles as if that would stop him if he fell. My throat felt clogged, and I blinked. "I'm sweating into my eyes, it's so hot," I complained to myself. I pulled out my camera and focused it quickly on the trio by the train.
There was a satisfying click and I lowered the camera, frowning. I wondered if the father would ever return to his family. He finally released his grip on his son, lowering him slowly back to his mother.
"I love you, Daddy!" The boy Jimmy called. "I love--" his voice broke and he tried again. "I love you, Daddy! Don't forget!"
The man stretched his hands out as the last few soldiers boarded the train and a whoosh of steam rose up from the wheels. "Be good, Jimmy," His voice was husky, the kind that hints at tears in the soul. "You're the man of the family while I'm away."
"I know." Jimmy nodded, scrambling down from his mother's arms.
The man glanced at his wife--just a glance, and it said so much. She raised her hand until the train disappeared, but still stood even after it had been gone for a few minutes.
I felt like I was going to choke. So that was what family was like...and that was also what courage was like. I felt like a miserable coward. This photo was not going to be sold to a magazine, but I was still glad I got it. It had opened my eyes to the truth--there was a job to be done. But could I do it?
By the time I reached the girl selling tickets again, I had made up my mind. "Hey, where's the recruiting station?"
Her eyes grew wide, then she gave a shy smile. "I could take you."

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Before I go, I wanted to share September's challenge with you! September's Challenge is this: Write a story about an elderly couple. I'm really interested to see how this one will turn out. ;)

I want to apologize for the crazy blog schedule the last few months. Thank you so much for your patience! Hopefully I'll be getting back in the swing of things now. ;) You all have a lovely day!

<3
Victoria

10 Comments

Bethany

9/8/2016 11:54:19 pm

Wow! Great story, so well written!

Victoria Minks

9/11/2016 06:54:49 pm

Thank you, Bethany!!

Faith Potts

9/9/2016 05:09:32 am

Awww, thank you so much for linking to me, Victoria!! ^.^ Your story was adorable. <3
Hopefully I'll be able to do your September challenge! :D

Victoria Minks

9/11/2016 06:55:28 pm

Happy to link you, Faith! :) Thanks! I'd love to hear your story if you do the September Challenge!

Abigail

9/10/2016 02:51:00 am

You're back! I'm so happy! :D How's your asthma? I'm glad you're better! Thanks for the story. It was beautiful. What time era is this written in?

Victoria Minks

9/11/2016 06:56:45 pm

Aw, Abigail, your comments never fail to make me smile. :) I'm glad to be back too. ;) My asthma is getting better little by little--still having some problems but definitely not as bad as it was.
Glad you liked the story! Oh, that's awkward, I forgot to tell the time period, didn't I? Oops. Well, it's WWII era. ;)

Katja L.

10/1/2016 04:50:31 am

I don't suppose I have to tell you who inspired this story. 😜 Yep, ancestors. My great-grandparents on my father's side. Actually, they didn't really inspire it. I just heard about their group that was married so the men didn't have to go to war, and like fifty? years later all but seven or something were married, even though many hardly knew each other. Royall is inspired by a dear British friend and Mrs. Ames is in honor of one of my mother's elementary school teachers.

I-FORGET-THE-TOPIC ESSAY #23
Hi, my name's Bernadette Pinkerton and I'm ten. I've got mousy hair and freckles and you'd best not mess with me cause I'm tough. But today my essay isn't about me or my nineteen brothers. It's about my Dada and Mama.

Dada and Mama are old. Well, Dada is at least. He's a ninety-five-year-old Britisher and his name is Trevelyan Jermaine Royall. Mama is seventy-four and she's Scottish and her name's Elspeth Rebecca McDouglas Royall.

And she is BEE. YOO. TEE. FUL. She has long, pearly ringlets and big, light-green eyes like water. She has long, long eyelashes like a beauty advertisement, and she is as sweet as her lemon meringue pie. (Dada says that).

Dada is awfully handsome too. He's got white hair and brown eyes as full of twinkles as a firefly's light. He's a chuckle-y endurer. Mama says it's because he chuckles and endures that he lived through those awful years. You see, he fought in World War II and he won lots of medals. Dada says some people say that it was his medals that resigned Mama to their marriage but that's not true.

So I've told you all about my Dada and Mama so you'd be interested. Now I'm going to tell you all about their marriage. Now don't you dare laugh at me or I'll punch your nose for you. Listen, 'cause it's interesting.

When my Dada was thirty-seven, he was the only one left unmarried in his family. His cousins and everything were all married but Dada hadn't found a wife yet. And Mama was sixteen, and SHE wasn't married either.

Well, that was in '39. We were just about to go to war 'gainst Hitler and all that, but Dada wasn't particularly interested in the war, and he couldn't go anyway 'cause his Mum didn't want her baby to. But he got to thinking that he should settle down and marry, so he went to his pastor and asked him if he knew of any good Christian girls to marry.

Well, the pastor did. He said that Elspeth McDouglas was in all points an eligible and estimable young lady, only she was awful young, but she was turning seventeen in December. So Dada talked to her and her parents and friends and cousins and all and found that she really was an eligibly estimable young lady.

Well. THEN Mum Royall was told that if her boy didn't marry he'd be drafted. The person who told her was a gossip so it may or may not have been true. But anyway she real wanted Dada to marry.

So she went and arranged everything and almost before they knew it Dada and Mama were married.

Dada says he didn't real mind 'cause Mama was awful sweet and pretty and it all seemed OK. Mama didn't like it at all though. She wanted a nice wedding and besides she didn't love Dada yet.

Well, anyway, it didn't work cause Dada was drafted, like, the day after their wedding.

So he ended up in the war and he ended up in China and he ended up as a POW and he ended up staying there YEARS. . . and in the end he came home.

But by then he really loved the Japanese and felt real sorry for them and wanted them to be missionaried to—that's not the real word but I forget the right one—and so he came back to Canada (Mama had come there 'cause it was safer) and got her and went back to Japan and became a missionary.

Dada was real old when Daddy was born. He was fifty-seven. But Mama wasn't old, she was thirty-six. And they'd been married twenty years already. After Daddy they had a little girl, Rebecca Elizabeth Royall. She was real pretty and light-footed, with big brown eyes and long golden ringlet like Mama. But when she was seventeen and Daddy was twenty-six she drowned. So when my nine oldest big brothers were nine (Weston), eight (Wesley), seven (Wilber), six (Warren), five (Wayne), four (Watson), three (Wyatt), two (Wilfred) and one (Wilson), and I or my nine other brothers ((Wiley, Walker, Wallace, Walton, Wardell, Warner, Warwick, Washington, Wade, Waylon, and Webster) were alive, our Auntie died and Mummy's brother, Uncle Whitaker, wouldn't get married, so we never had another.

So anyway I was telling you about my Dada and Mama. And what was I talking about them for? . . . . . . Oh, well, I forget. Sorry, Mrs. Ames, I guess that's another C- essay.

Oh, and I hope for your sakes you've guessed that Dada and Mama are my grandparents. . . 'cause my Daddy and Mummy are Canadian and they are NOT old. Daddy is only thirty-eight and Mummy is thirty-seven. They were awfully young

Katja

10/1/2016 04:57:06 am

Oh, and I hope for your sakes you've guessed that Dada and Mama are my grandparents. . . 'cause my Daddy and Mummy are Canadian and they are NOT old. Daddy is only thirty-eight and Mummy is thirty-seven. They were awfully young when they married.

So that's the story of my Dada and Mama and my hand hurts from all that writing and I wanna go play with Weston cause he's home from the Army and he's gonna play hockey with me. So bye.