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June 21: Flash Fiction Challenge

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It’s winter, and we’re hiking across snow to the falls. Boots tramp over a trail hardpacked by daily visits. Bare limbs reveal the hillside, bereft of the cover leaves afford the trail in summer. There’s something about the barrenness of winter that strips our souls. In a way, it’s a time to use this vulnerability to heal. We are open.

I shuffle my snowboots in single file with a group of chatting and giggling women. I smile because we were supposed to walk mindfully. But that does not mean silently, right? We’re here to heal at the Ripley Falls. In this glorious mindful moment, my world is white, the snow muffling my steps and sharpening my sense of connection.

Clear waters gurgle over billion-year old bedrock. At the falls I let go. Down, down, down, I drop, falling over backward, this moment captured in a snowglobe somebody has bought and shelved on a mantle in a universe far away — look, you shake up the globe, and the women at the falls fall over. 

We fuss over falling. We don’t even want to trip. It smudges our knees, tarnishes our shoes. Falling means we failed. Falling means we didn’t do it right. Falling carries such societal shame that many people spend a lifetime making certain they don’t ever fall. Lose weight, take a pill, regrow lost hair, make more money, and whatever you do don’t fall from grace.

Falling is not as hard as we think it will be.

I let go, fall backward and the snow catches me. I’ve fallen, so what do I do? I laugh, feel the cold against the back of my wool coat, ignoring the sting of snow that creeps into my mittens, and I fling both arms wide. I make a snow angel. And all around me, I hear the water churn gently over rocks and the sound of other women falling.

No, falling isn’t as hard as they tell us it will be. It’s the getting back up that’s a bear. The struggling, slipping, falling again. A hand followed by another reach down and with help, I regain my feet. Alone, I might have floundered. Falling, if it has a core lesson, teaches us that it’s easy to do, and hard to recover from unless we have help.

That winter hike to Ripley Falls will etch itself in my memory box. It was the conclusion of a retreat at the Ripley House of Healing owned by my friend Cynthia May Drake. She helps veterans, their families, women in transition, and anyone coping with grief and loss. The women who gathered that day I now also count as friends. We’ve seen each other many time since and I always recognize their hands.

I’ve attended several workshops and many Magnificent Mondays with Cynthia. She honors my literary art and welcomes me to share it during these gatherings. That day, after the winter retreat, I asked if I could use her beautiful home to host a writing workshop. She agreed, and we’ve been dancing around a date. Last Tuesday, I met with her on her porch, surrounded by all her rocks and books and peace, we shared coffee and dreams.

As I always do when I leave the Ripley House of Healing, I make a vow to go tent camping. Cynthia sleeps in her tent outside in her backyard near her sauna. Most people up here in Copper Country follow the Finnish tradition and have a sauna. Ours is downstairs in the basement. But Cynthia is the only person I know who sleeps with heated corn sacks to stay warm in her tent. Because she and her dog Monty even sleep outside in the snow.

But, hey, it’s summer (or that moment-savoring time of winter’s coming).

On Saturday, June 16, I comforted Jasper, our thunder-stressed dog because the city of Houghton celebrated Bridge Fest with full artillery. As the final fireworks blasted, I promised Jasper it was over. He might not understand why a community celebrates a bridge, but to us it’s connection.

The Houghton Bridge is the only one that connects the Keweenaw Peninsula to the Upper Peninsula. It crosses Portage Canal which is a waterway that bisects land, connecting one side of Lake Superior to the other. People have mined copper on the Keweenaw for over 10,000 years. Industrial mining came to the area in the late 1830s. Later, the mines created chutes from the top of the mountain to the Portage Canal below to stamp and deliver copper by way of boats.

Ghost towns and abandoned mines scattered across the Copper Country. Cynthia’s Ripley Falls was once an engineered chute, part of the mining. Her house was built 112 years ago, and since that time, Ripley Falls has followed the course laid out for it. A ski resort now spans across Mont Ripley, to the west of her place. Humans have tinkered with the environment heavily in this region, but nature quickly reclaims what was let go.

Nature also follows her own course.

After Jasper calmed down on Saturday night, I heard thunder off in the distance. I groaned as I walked up the stairs, knowing it would be a long night for the dog. I had no idea it would be a night of terror for my community. Several times thunder woke me up, and several times I fell back asleep. Morning dawned, and nothing seemed amiss. Until I saw the social media posts from Cynthia.

All that rubble you see was part of the ski slope above the falls. In a few hours, the thunderstorm stalled over the lower Keweenaw and dumped 7 inches of rain. Cynthia, who usually sleeps where a mountain slammed into her house, slept inside that night. She and her daughter woke up when her refrigerator tumbled over. Water filled her stairwell to the bedrooms on the second floor and pushed against their doors in a torrent, preventing escape.

Cynthia writes:

“Drive to be alive: I am alive because I was saved by my 15 year old from certain death in my beloved tent on a night that produced 7” of rain in two hours and a mudslide from an unstable ski hill which slammed against my home burying my yard in 5-6 feet of rubble and muck.

I am alive because a first responder and my dear neighbors called for help to rescue my Samantha, my wee pup and I from a home where the flood waters were coming up the stairs from the first floor and keeping the doors shut from the inside.

I am alive because a community of neighbors, friends and strangers have poured by the 100’s to my homeplace, to dig through rubble and muck, to lift out treasured photos and sweet memories, to hose down, to kneel and pull out wet insulation from walls, to rip up 112 year old mint condition but wet hard wood floors, to hand pick and haul out sharp rocks from a ski hill burying cars and saunas and garages.

I am alive because blessed members if our Ojibwe people came to honor the waters who flow and give us life when we respect the earth and her ways and death and destruction when we forget and are greedy.

I am alive with the love of all whom I have witnessed the past days of endless work and give themselves selflesssly to it. And I mean all of you, with thoughts, prayers, financial help, phone calls, ideas, hard labor, food, well wishes. All if this is what we live for. Our purpose in life is to serve one another and create a community of bonds so tight that nothing can divide us because we are bonded in love.

One scene I will remember forever was last night on the cusp of Solstice as our days here have daylight until well past 10, I was standing by my beloved and broken sauna, waiting for my girlfriend SD to find the correct drill bit for a bit of sweet salvage, I looked over the scene around me. This is what I saw: beloved neighbors talking with selfless helpers and eating something finally as they gazed over tge work of some long days, people still digging and puzzling in the waterway, laughter ringing, dogs barking, a moon rising… and I was so pleased, so happy, so fulfilled. This is life, this is who we are capable of being. This is who we are. It was such a beautiful scene. It is our new reality. Blessed be.”

Not all is lost when we fall.

Those hands reach down to shovel muck with us, to pull us into a hug, push us to rip out our own walls because it’s necessary for survival. Hands join our hands, and together we move all the rubble bucket by bucket from our fallen environment. Hands do their part — some pack, some organize, some bless, and some write. Not all is lost when a community joins hands to lift the fallen.

I’ve witnessed amazing acts of perseverance in this community. The Red Cross and government officials lagged behind our local efforts to help friends and neighbors. Our efforts are slowing down because we’ve ripped out all the water-logged walls, salvaged 112-year-old trim, firehosed a basement after cleaning it out by hand, and treated interior framework with sprays to prevent mold.

If you are moved to help Cynthia, we do not yet know if her house can be saved, but we’ve set up a fund for her: GoFundMe.

We. Because falling takes others to rise. Just as we are a community of writers, we are the ones to extend the hands up.

June 21, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about “not all is lost.” It can include recovery from disaster, an unexpected insight after a fall, or however the phrase moves you. Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by June 26, 2018. Use the comment section below to share, read and be social. You may leave a link, pingback or story in the comments.

If you want your story published in the weekly collection, please use this form. If you want to interact with other writers, do so in the comments (yes, that means sharing your story TWICE — once for interaction and once for publication). Rules are here.

 

Not All is Lost by Charli Mills

Annabel retreated from the mourners. Thirty miners, four boys, and her beloved mine captain dead. Fire erupted at level 27 and none evacuated. Men continued to drill, eager to chase the new copper load, believing the updraft would smoother the flames. Greed overcomes common sense, Annabel thought. Ripley was ambitious, a hard-worker and a smart man. He cared about the land and community, but even good men succumb to copper fever. They dug their own deaths. She left the mass funeral and wandered to the falls. Ripley was gone, but his babe grew in the swell of her belly.


214 Comments

  1. Here’s mine Charli

    The land lies barren and dry,
    Drought is a killer.
    Crop fields harvest dust,
    Bairns cry in hunger.
    The heat shows no mercy,
    Hands blistered and sore
    Toil endlessly
    Until the blood flows.
    Animals have deserted
    This once bountiful place,
    The bones of the unfortunate
    Bleach in the relentless sun.
    Bowls and vats lie hollow,
    Their meagre contents
    Rationed rather than shared.
    Their days are numbered,
    Maybe only single figures.
    A tear falls from the sky,
    One becomes many
    And a lone flower dares
    To raise its head.
    All is not lost:
    Clouds are gathering,
    And with them,
    Rain.

    Liked by 12 people

  2. papershots says:

    Your thoughts about falling and the stigma attached to it in our society are really powerful. In theatre improvisation there’s a whole section of exercises focused on letting go by actually falling, backward, forward, or with your eyes closed trusting that somebody else will catch you before hitting the floor. And they’re life-changing experiences for a lot of people. Thanks for this prompt and all the best to your friend Cynthia 🙂

    Liked by 6 people

  3. calmkate says:

    wow powerful story, Cynthia and you are such strong resilient spirits ,.. her gratitude shines through! It’s a shame we often need a disaster to bring out the neighbourly love and really serve each other. Praying that all goes well for Cynthia’s home and that the tent wont become a necessity 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      Thank you, Kate! When I met Cynthia, I knew I wanted to be friends with her. So many women up here on the Keweenaw embody resiliency. Today I rode shotgun with another friend, a fellow veteran spouse, and we handed out water bottles to the National Guard. I’ve often felt that way about disasters and neighbors, but I’ve experienced such an outpouring of love and support from this community without the mud! I hope Cynthia gets a new yard and tent! But, yes, her home, too.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. janmalique says:

    It lifts your heart and restores faith in human nature when you see such acts of compassion and help.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. […] Carrot Ranch – not all is lost June 21, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about “not all is lost.” It can include recovery from disaster, an unexpected insight after a fall, or however the phrase moves you. Go where the prompt leads. Respond by June 26, 2018. […]

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Jules says:

    Dear Charli and Cynthia too;

    I may have another brewing about this topic, but the first thing that came to my poetic mind was an acrosTic haibun – a poem. At my post I also have a link to both the Carrot Ranch prompt and a current news article.

    May many hands reach out to aide those in need – regards,

    Not All Is Lost… /strong>

    Less light after the solstice here
    Only marginally though as
    Summer starts with the passing of the
    Solstice – here in the northern hemisphere

    Loosened land added by torrential rains
    Over churned mud and debris land-
    Sliding, slipping and seeping while
    Some were sleeping…

    Love is given selflessly
    Over and over – helping those
    Survivors of the unexpected – to them
    Salutations – living saints or angels?

    Lend a hand if you can –
    Over and over, anywhere, then
    Somewhere far or nearer to your heart
    Stop a moment – and say a prayer…

    tears flood, as eyes see;
    welcoming community
    and all strangers too

    ©J/h

    Down the first four stanza is the word ‘LOSS’ and the stanza at the bottom is a haiku. Perhaps the first acrosTic haiku? I combine different forms. I hope this has captured the community and the strangers who have and will help.

    May recovery and healing be swift. ~Jules

    Liked by 9 people

  7. The contents of the button tin are scattered across the floor. Ruth sighs deeply. Surely Aunt Deborah’s wedding dress buttons must be here.
    She examines each tiny, but different, button. Turning them in her hand, hoping to find the final three.
    At the bottom of the pile there is a tiny gold ring. Ruth remembers the story of the lost Wedding Ring. How the ring travelled from Germany concealed in a coat hem, was lost during a house move long after Deborah had passed away.
    The buttons would need to be changed or maybe she could use odd ones.

    Liked by 6 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      I enjoyed how this search for buttons leads to the family migration story. It’s nostalgic and yet an epic story of lost and found in a simple act of sewing buttons.

      Like

    • So lovely and moving.

      Liked by 1 person

    • Jules says:

      My one Grandma was a seamstress… and I have a tin of her buttons.
      My MIL collected all the extra buttons from new clothes. Finding the ring is a treasure as well as the memory…

      Like

      • Button tins are wonderful aren’t they? So many untold and long lost stories in them. My Moms button tin was also passed down through the family. There are sequins from old hatpins and buckles from the 1930’s, a whole host of interesting curios.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Jules says:

        Sometimes at yard or garage sales I’ll pick up more buttons to hunt for those types of treasures 🙂

        Some of the buttons I have still have pieces of their store cardboard backs . One I have has twelve fancy silver buttons with the name Nouveaute on it. Some buttons are the size of my pinkie finger nail or smaller and others as bigger than a half dollar coin. Others have fabric covers. 🙂
        Yes I think some I have might be old too. And the rainbow colors… I remember playing buttons as a child. I wonder how many were found in the heating vents when my Grandmother’s home was sold?

        Like

  8. denmaniacs4 says:

    A Tumble in Time

    “Barefoot?”

    “Yes, sockless. Shoeless too.”

    “On a damp grassy incline?”

    “That too.”

    “So, quite slippery, I assume?”

    “As slick as a grifter’s tongue.”

    “Thanks for that. So?”

    “So, why did I do it?”

    “Yeah, good guess. Don’t you keep sandals by the back door?”

    “Yup.”

    “For stepping outside?”

    “Exactly.”

    “Too much trouble?”

    “To slip them on? No. But they’ve seen better days.”

    “So have you, it appears.”

    “Never fallen like that before. Scared the bejesus out of me.”

    “Nothing broke, though.”

    “Dumb luck. Still, it took me two hours to crawl up.”

    “Learn anything?”

    “Yup. Never ever go outside.”

    http://www.engleson.ca

    Liked by 5 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      Ha! Love the humor in this snappy dialog flash, Bill. Especially this line: “As slick as a grifter’s tongue.”

      Liked by 1 person

      • denmaniacs4 says:

        Thanks, Charli. Given the choice, I always seek out humor. Still, against the devastating backdrop of your post, the eruption of nature, the luck and misfortune, all cascaded together in rampaging water and earth boils, well, I hope I didn’t detract from the larger message. We’ve had similar floodwaters up country in British Columbia to name just one first world cauldron. News reports of rising oceans and the threat to close-to-sea-level communities in North America and around the world are incredibly concerning. Take care.

        Liked by 2 people

      • Charli Mills says:

        I think in order for people to process calamity we need to see it through different lenses. If we only show serious close-ups we don’t see the other effects. Humor gives us a break to be able to process the deeper elements. We are going to need art to get through times that are difficult to make sense of. Despite the increase in extreme weather events, I don’t think many people realize that we need to be adjusting to natural disasters because what was “naturally safe” before is no longer. Ah, I enjoyed your flash!

        Liked by 2 people

  9. paulamoyer says:

    What a harrowing experience you are all having Charli! It sounds like a nightmare — one in which people are bonding and coming together, but a nightmare, nonetheless.

    https://paulajmoyerwrites.wordpress.com/2018/06/22/a-different-way-of-being-faithful/

    A Different Way of Being Faithful

    By Paula Moyer

    Jean and Bill had been divorced for 12 years when she got the call. “Your father died this morning.” Her mother’s voice, baffled.

    Later that morning, she and her husband Steve flew to Oklahoma. Later that night, Bill arrived, along with the girls, Lydia and Nola. The next day, as Jean and her mother put together the funeral, they needed one more pallbearer. A quick call to Bill’s hotel room settled it: “I would be honored.”

    At the cemetery, Jean watched the coffin trundling past, Steve and Bill shouldering opposite sides. After everything, she could still count on Bill.

    Liked by 6 people

  10. Charli, what a beautiful description you give of your place of peace and the beauty of letting yourself fall. Also, what a scary ordeal for your friend Cynthia. Things can be replaced but people can’t so I am glad she and her family are OK. Several months ago I wrote this about falling. Today I was reminded of it and I thought I would share it with you as it seems appropriate: https://memorycellar.wordpress.com/2018/01/30/a-redwood-or-an-oak/
    I haven’t attempted the prompt yet but I am looking forward to it. Thank you, as always, for sharing your stories with us and for always giving us something to think about with the prompts.

    Liked by 6 people

  11. janmalique says:

    Charli, your challenge gave me much food for thought and accordingly the offering reflected this.

    https://strangegoingsonintheshed.wordpress.com/2018/06/22/ive-got-you-now-june-21-flash-fiction-challenge/

    Your post was hopeful and encouraging about the best of qualities that arise in communities in difficult times.

    Liked by 3 people

  12. […] This is written for the Carrot Ranch Prompt: not all is lost. […]

    Liked by 2 people

  13. […] Charli Mills – June 21: Flash Fiction Challenge […]

    Liked by 1 person

  14. Charli, thank you for sharing your experience of falling in the snow. I could visualize you letting go down, but not panicking. How beautiful it is that you just relaxed and let go, go with the fall. You got up with a helping hand. What a good example of community support.

    It could have been worse if we fall and struggle about falling. It’s not easy to let yourself fall, physically or metaphorically. During my cancer treatment, I was down to skin and bone and my life was failing. I too let go of my responsibilities and accepted help from my community to let my body heal and recover.

    Here’s the Flash

    It’s a Matter of Getting Up

    It was early December 2017, the Thomas Fire in Ventura County, California devoured 307,900 acres and 1,300 structures. 230,000 residents described the wildfires in the neighborhood as a war zone. Smoke stretched 1,000 miles across the Pacific.

    By Christmas, residents came back to their burned home, found pieces of displaced family photos. They pinned them on a bulletin to find owners. Some put up Christmas trees, decorations to bring cheer to the neighborhood. Strangers hugged each other and shed some tears. Homes and belongings were gone. Yet not all is lost. They wanted to rebuild and be neighbors again.

    https://theshowerofblessings.wordpress.com/2018/06/22/june-21-flash-fiction-challenge/

    Liked by 10 people

  15. Norah says:

    Oh my, Charli, from your fall to the falls’ fall. What a metaphor. Yes, we do need those hands to help us up when we’re down. You may have been able to see your snowy fall as a snow globe, gently shaken up by another far away. But it’s difficult to see this muddy fall in the same way. I was interested in Cynthia’s comment about the ‘Ojibwe people (who) came to honor the waters who flow and give us life when we respect the earth and her ways and death and destruction when we forget and are greedy’ and wondered how respect had not been shown. Sometimes we take our own power for granted, as if we can control our world. But nature has a way of reminding us who’s boss. I like the way you take up that theme in your flash. You pull together all those threads quite nicely in a piece that speaks succinctly and with clarity of greedy-mindedness and its effects.
    I am amazed that Cynthia sleeps outside each night in a tent. She is obviously one special woman, with a special way of interacting with her world. It’s a good thing she slept inside that night. Perhaps her relationship with the earth told her that was what she needed to do. I am pleased she is safe and that not all is lost. That is a good thing about the human spirit – hope, it’s what keeps us going and get us up when we fall down: spirit and a helping hand or two.
    Best wishes to Cynthia and others who must also have lost a lot.

    Liked by 7 people

    • Norah says:

      Hi Charli, I’m back with my story this week It’s not the end of the world https://wp.me/p3O5Jj-1aF Best wishes to you, Cynthia and all your neighbours affected by the storm.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Charli Mills says:

        Not the end of the world after all! (Here, too.) Thank you, we are cleaning up and puzzling out how to get old mining infrastructures rebuilt as they became our roads and waterways.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Norah says:

        Hmm. We are but pawns in Mother Nature’s game of chess. I think she’ll always win, no matter how powerful or in control we think we are.

        Like

    • Charli Mills says:

      Norah, it is a muddy fall muddied more by the fact that the ski hill on Mont Ripley built a new run which came above Ripley Falls. Cynthia spoke out against it. She was told they put erosion skirting in place — that didn’t hold! Now we are finding out that the ski hill did not secure proper permits, either. These are issues that Ojibwe and other native peoples are fighting in the US, and they are focusing on water all across the states. A group of Ojibwe women came up to Ripley after the landslide and held a water ceremony with Cynthia. Tonight when I was out there, I saw the big trucks hauling away the debris field of rocks from the slide and they are taking it back up to rebuild the sloughed hillside. It seems a poor choice. But Cynthia has a lot of fight in her, and she’s advocating for them to manage it correctly. Yes, the community is surviving with that strong human spirit. Thank you!

      Liked by 3 people

  16. Reality Check

    “Pal, buy me a beer.”
    “Cain’t Kid, spent ma beer money on the Go Fund Me fer Cynthia Drake.”
    “Same here, Pal.”
    “That’s good, Kid, ‘cause them folks up there really need ta dry out.”
    “Whyn’t they jist come shelter here at the Ranch?”
    “Ah, Kid, the Ranch is a wonderful shelterin’ place, but yer always fergittin’ ‘bout the virtual elements of it.”
    “Here ya go agin, Pal, havin’ ta remind me we’s fictional characters. But I really wanna help.”
    “I’m sure the Drakes ‘preciate you givin’ up yer beer money, Kid.”
    “I’m thirsty.”
    “Could be worse.”
    “Dang right.”

    Liked by 8 people

  17. […] Carrot Ranch – not all is lost June 21, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about “not all is lost.” It can include recovery from disaster, an unexpected insight after a fall, or however the phrase moves you. Go where the prompt leads. Respond by June 26, 2018. […]

    Liked by 1 person

  18. Jules says:

    Dear Charli and Cynthia… and community
    When there is loss there is also a gain…
    so I did perhaps another original combination of poetry with an acrosTic renga haibun:

    Grant Gains

    Grant Gain

    Gather together, permit others
    As they offer their aide
    In your heart of hearts, fear not – forbid
    Nightmares their tight grasp upon reality

    Golden opportunities await
    Angels in plain clothes to host
    Individuals, families – some will
    Need less others more…

    Grant those who come as a visitor
    An opportunity to become family
    Include them as repairs begin –
    Not all is lost…

    healing can take years –
    fears ebb and flow like water
    mud can cloud good hope

    let those in who filter out
    dark diteris and debris

    focus on mending
    both that which is solid as
    well as what’s unseen

    ©J/h

    Liked by 7 people

  19. Hi Charli,
    A great deal to think about in your post, and in the comments, stories and poems.
    My prayers for Cynthia, and the community, for courage to build anew, and to keep moving forward.

    On a somewhat different note: I think it was either Edison or Bell, who said that “failure is the mother of invention”.

    My idea for my FF story in response to “not all is lost” came from my reading the biographies of women scientists, trailblazers in their fields, very determined and courageous women.

    Here is my response to the FF prompt: “not all is lost”
    “Signposts”

    In the garden, Lisa grieved for Aunt Veronica, an artist and illustrator of all things botanical. Lisa’s own interest in archaeology was sparked on a family vacation with Veronica, to see prehistoric rock and cave paintings in Brazil. Not all is lost.
    Veronica swiftly sketched the cave artwork, and the prehistoric villages. Lisa caught her aunt’s excitement. She learned how to glean the stories of people, to look for ancient and prehistoric signposts, when there are no written records.
    Lisa inherited Veronica’s Library. Not all is lost. Veronica’s generous gift filled her with a deep abiding sense of gratitude.

    Thank you, for a challenging and inspiring post.

    Liked by 5 people

  20. […] This 99-word story was inspired by the Carrot Ranch’s prompt of: “not all is lost” […]

    Liked by 1 person

  21. I went a little tilted with this one…

    Disaster Strikes

    Even when times looked their darkest, everyone could count of the sun to rise, and drive away the night and its memories. No one would ever believe that the sun would not rise, but that is exactly what happened on June 28, 3258. Reports indicated a massive black hole developed behind the sun and devoured it, just like one had to Jupiter three years earlier. We had less than twenty-four hours to get off this planet before we all perished. Thankfully though, our global distress signal was intercepted by the Third Intergalactic Fleet. I wonder if they eat humans.

    Liked by 4 people

  22. […] Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday and Carrot Ranch, June 21: Flash Fiction Challenge […]

    Liked by 1 person

  23. weejars says:

    I combined this week’s flash with MLMM’s First Line Friday and ended up with this dark little number…
    https://bysarahwhiley.wordpress.com/2018/06/24/not-all-is-lost/

    Liked by 2 people

  24. Annecdotist says:

    How dreadful your friend, Charli, but what a lucky escape that she wasn’t sleeping in her tent. The devastation caused by floods is so demoralising, and seems to be on the increase, at least here.
    Lovely flash to round it off – life goes on because it has to! Beautifully evoked.
    You might be amused that the prompt got me thinking about the cave in the hero’s journey, yes, that story structure I’m gradually having to change my mind about. My flash is about falling into the cave of creativity a.k.a. writer’s block:
    Come into my cave! #amwriting http://annegoodwin.weebly.com/1/post/2018/06/come-into-my-cave-amwriting.html

    Liked by 6 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      Anne, I think floods are becoming more prevalent as we built where we don’t often have such events. With climate change, a signature is that weather events become more extreme. They are calling our flood a 1,000-year flood which really conveys no real meaning to me. I think they say things like that to imply another won’t happen again for a thousand years. As for the cave, I was delighted to find you went there and reflected on the hero’s journey!

      Liked by 1 person

  25. […] week’s flash fiction challenge setup over at Carrot Ranch was poignant. After a heartbreaking yet inspiring tale of coming back after a flood, Charli left us […]

    Liked by 1 person

  26. My response isn’t nearly as poignant as this wonderful post. I hope you don’t mind.
    https://allisonmaruska.com/2018/06/24/flash-fiction-believing/

    Liked by 4 people

  27. […] Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge. […]

    Liked by 2 people

  28. […] in response to Charli Mills’ prompt at the Carrot Ranch: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about “not all is […]

    Liked by 1 person

  29. What a harrowing experience for her, can’t even imagine that feeling of the world having fallen around her. But it’s so great that the community is coming together to rebuild her life, one brick at a time. Here’s my story for the week: https://jagahdilmein.wordpress.com/2018/06/25/a-fresh-start/

    Liked by 5 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      Even from a distance, it’s surreal to watch a loved one’s world come apart like that. Her house is absolutely gutted. I had a workshop scheduled there and she pulled the Rough Writer’s Anthology out of the mud. I feel like I’m right there, too. The community has been amazing and many are letting me collect their stories. Some have twists as amazing as what you write!

      Like

  30. […] 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about “not all is lost.” It can include recovery from disaster, an unexpected insight after a fall, or however the phrase moves you. Go where the prompt […]

    Liked by 1 person

  31. calmkate says:

    Here is mine:

    The company hadn’t ensured that safety was paramount. So sixteen men were trapped underground. Poisonous gas was leaking so nobody could go in or out as the fresh air might trigger an explosion.

    Distraught families and first response teams were anxiously waiting above ground. Children were confused not really comprehending the threat. CWA ladies were handing out cups of tea. People were trying to stay positive but the underlying tension caused tears to fall and fears to surface.

    They heard a resounding crack followed by a loud heartfelt cheer … the engineers had found a way through, miners saved!

    Liked by 5 people

  32. […] In response to: https://carrotranch.com/2018/06/22/june-21-flash-fiction-challenge/ […]

    Liked by 1 person

  33. susansleggs says:

    Sorry, put my personal comments on the submission form. I know you’ll get them. I’m sorry about Cynthia’s troubles. Where you live demands you all be warriors…..

    Let It Go

    The cocky author had gone to the writing conference feeling he would come away with an agent; the pamphlet said he could pitch them. He listened, open minded, to the various panel discussions and realized he would have to rewrite his whole manuscript so it started and ended with a bang. He decided it wasn’t worth his time, and appreciated the writing he had done had gotten him through a rough patch in his life. All was not lost: the next time he read a book, he read for pleasure instead of learning the craft. He felt oddly free.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      Thank you, Susan. And I agree with your flash — we often have more to gain as writers when we let go of expectations and savor reading and writing for pleasure. I hope your character finishes reading and feels invigorated!

      Liked by 1 person

  34. […] June 21: Flash Fiction Challenge […]

    Liked by 1 person

  35. I haven’t written in awhile. 4 kids on summer break can make it hard to do anything for myself. Add the World Cup on tv and it makes it almost impossible. Here is my submission for this week.

    That Kind Of Day

    Today has been the worst. It started off like an ordinary Monday, but it definitely didn’t end that way.

    My car wouldn’t start right away. I got to work late, but just in time for my boss to notice. If that wasn’t bad enough, they announced that we would be working this weekend.

    I made it home later than usual due to the rain. I poured myself a glass of wine, put my feet up, and turned on Netflix. A large cracking sound came from outside. Everything went dark. Not all was lost. At least I still had wine.

    notyouraveragemomblogweb.wordpress.com/2018/06/25/flash-fiction-that-kind-of-day/

    Liked by 3 people

  36. […] 21, 2018, the Carrot Ranch Literary Community Flash Fiction prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about “not all is lost.” It can include recovery […]

    Liked by 1 person

  37. The Crow’s Secret

    She was losing control of her powers. Zaria woke up, hovering above the bed staring down at the rumpled sheets twisted below. She fell, landing hard on the floor. Without her magic, she was nothing. She would be banned from the witch’s council.

    Zaria arose from the floor. From his perch on the windowsill, crow flapped his wings and landed on her shoulder. He whispered in her ear, “Not all is lost. I’m here to give you the gift of clairvoyance.”

    The young witch grinned. She felt the veil lift. Thank you crow, I see what you are saying.”

    Liked by 2 people

  38. […] I wrote this in response to the challenge that Charli Mills of the Carrot Ranch set for writers this week, to In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about “not all is lost.” It can include recovery fr… […]

    Liked by 1 person

  39. susansleggs says:

    A Tribute to Military Pilots

    An Air Force pilot friend shared: My crew and I were walking to our plane for a training run and stopped in our tracks when the base fire siren went off. We looked around and then up. Our hearts jumped into our throats when we saw a plane rushing the runway on fire. It hit with a huge explosion. We didn’t believe anyone could survive, but not all was lost, within minutes six airmen walked from the smoke. We learned the meaning of “any landing you walk away from is a good landing; some are just better than others.”

    Liked by 4 people

  40. Juliet says:

    Hi All,
    What a moving post, Charli. I hope things are slowly coming right for Cynthia. I’m sure they are.
    My offering this week is something I had totally forgotten about until I read your post. A definite BOTS which happened when we lived on a tiny Carribean island in what seems like another lifetime….All is certainly not lost while we’re still standing and breathing.

    Stand and Deliver!

    ‘Gimme your bag!’

    She almost laughed at her friend’s attempt at the local thick accent until she felt the hard pull on her shoulder.

    He wore a strange trilby hat pulled low onto his forehead and had tied a bandana scarf around his face. All she could see was the shining whites of his eyes and the gun pointing in her direction. Real or a toy? She didn’t want to know.

    She handed over the bag. Keys, credit cards, telephone would now belong to this stranger.

    But she held onto the gold locket around her neck. And her life.

    Liked by 5 people

  41. Losses and Gains

    Ilene was first to the lawn chairs, Marge huffing behind.
    “I gotta sit down. Phew! Do your feet hurt?”
    “Not even one of them. Marge, stop walking in your work boots. I happen to have extra left footed sneakers if you want to start there.”
    “Ilene, you’re something, always joking about your leg.”
    “I lost a leg, Marge, not my humor. I’m lucky I didn’t lose my life.”
    “Well, let’s have a beer to celebrate. I think I lost another five pounds on that walk.”
    Ilene watched her friend bend to open the cooler. “All is not lost, Marge.”

    Liked by 5 people

  42. […] witness to “amazing acts of perseverance” in our many communities.  Carrot Ranch  June 21, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about “not all is lost.” It can include recovery […]

    Liked by 1 person

  43. robbiecheadle says:

    Hi Charli, this certainly is a very powerful story about good fortune, level-headedness and help form society and friends. I hope your friend will be alright financial and will be able to rebuild her home. Here is my piece for this week: https://bakeandwrite.co.za/flashfiction-all-is-not-lost/

    Liked by 4 people

  44. Oh Charli, I think of all you’ve shared here and on FB about Cynthia’s plight, and then, when I read her incredibly brave and moving account. all I could think of was Tolkien: ‘Not all those who wander are lost.’ Cynthia is moved to feel joy and great blessing in the midst of great personal devastation and loss. My heart and prayers go out to her, you and your community ❤

    Rock Bottom

    He hit rock bottom and I thought it was the end. “If you keep drinking, you’ll be dead in six months,” warned the doctor.

    I was wrong; he stopped, for a few months at least. Then he started again and I knew his next fall could be his last.

    I wondered if spending nights hunched up in a doorway might change things, or late night rants down the telephone cursing his dear, beloved father who he hoped would rot in hell.

    It was the years in prison writing letters to his daughter that told me, all was not lost.

    Liked by 4 people

  45. […] in response to Carrot Ranch’s Flash Fiction Challenge. Check it […]

    Liked by 1 person

  46. Ruchira Khanna says:

    I pray Cynthia’s life comes back to normal. You are such a compassionate soul, my friend. I admire you for always being there.

    My take is on a lighter note….just to give a smile in times of adversity.

    I-scream disaster

    “I’ll have the butterscotch, please!” Meghan requested politely.

    “One scoop or two,” he asked in a hurried tone

    “Ummm!”

    “Be quick, young lady! I ain’t the whole day.”

    “I’m sorry, I can’t decide,” she said as she put her index finger in her mouth and swayed her 4-foot skeleton from left to right allowing the frills of her frock to bend along.

    “Next,” he shouted leaving her cup as is and attended the next person in line.

    She was devastated, and tears came along.

    “Nothing is lost! Do not cry,” the mom ushered her on one side, “Let’s share!”

    https://abracabadra.blogspot.com/2018/06/i-scream-disaster.html

    Liked by 3 people

  47. Liz H says:

    Here’s my go. Based on a number of prompts and a long, soupy heatwave that only just broke this morning, it resulted in a bit of extra silliness. Hope you all “see” what I sketched out here. 😉

    An Urban Truth

    He shambles out of the park, swaying side-to-side, shyly dominating the Midtown sidewalk. Sun glints in his blonde-bronze pelt, furry toes squashing—or shall we say “squatching”?—his platform flip-flops…
    [Continue ]

    Liked by 1 person

  48. […] week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that is a sketch […]

    Like

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