The turkey roasts in the oven, a compound of sage, smoked sea salt, orange zest, cracked black pepper, and butter slid carefully beneath its skin. Every thirty minutes I will baste it with white wine, sage, and orange sauce.

Green beans and mushrooms slow cook in one crock, and French onion dressing cooks in the other. It took nearly an hour to carmelize the onions for the dressing and it will be worth the effort.

Outside on the porch, I have a second cooler thanks to the cold temperatures. The Reisling chills. Pumpkin pies I baked last night rest. The scalloped corn and candied yams wait their turn in the oven. Soon I will peel the potatoes, set out the olives and deviled eggs, and pull the Mills Family salad from the freezer.

There are two Mills for dinner. The family table set for two. I won’t linger on that thought. Instead, I focus on cooking the feast I cherished most to fix for my family.

We did get Facetime — Allison and Drew cuddling with their puppies on the farm where I will go tomorrow; Kyle and Leah at her mom’s place in Wisconsin where they are cutting backstraps from the deer my son shot this morning to the pride of his Hauck women; Brianna and full bar with 500 bottles of the best whiskey in Europe in Longyearbyen, Svalbard, Norway.

Yesterday, as I ran errands and visited friends in town, I swung through Urban Rustics for a treat — a dark chocolate peppermint mocha. The barista asked if my dog wanted whip. Sure! Mause got a cup of whipped cream. She licked every inch of that cup and then ripped it to shreds. I saved half my decadent drink for this moment. For posting a new challenge while Thanksgiving stews in its juices.

This is one of those moments when every muscle relaxes. Ahhh…! I wish I could share the savory smells and the sweet sips with each of you.

Remember, your writing needs lulls like this, too. Where you let the hard work of plotting, drafting, character development, and world-building be. You, the author, need the equivalent of the best warm drink ever. Warm enough to soothe your aching bones. Sweet enough to melt your heart. If you have been hard at projects or NaNoWrimo, let it all rest. The feast will come together after you take this moment.

For our prompt, I want to give travel writing a shot in the arm. News has focused on holiday travels in the US. A local radio station offered the lamest “tips” for what to do if your flight is canceled — buy travel insurance and don’t get upset. It was such a useless report, I wondered if travel writers have left the field after a rough year and a half of a global pandemic.

Of course, here at the Ranch, we write stories — fiction, BOTS, and even poetry. I figured we’d all have more to offer on the subject of canceled flights. Anything can happen. Maybe we’d have better tips, too.

November 25, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write about a canceled flight. Where was the flight headed? Who does it impact and why? How does a protagonist handle the situation? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by November 30, 2021. 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 to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

Submissions are now closed. Find our latest challenge to enter.

A Relief by Charli Mills

Snow blew in horizontal lines. The gate agent assured the twenty-four passengers the flight would depart. Downstate, Clarice knew small planes as puddle-jumpers but above the Arctic Circle, they were called ice-breakers. She shuddered at unwanted images of airplanes crashing through expansive sea ice. She wrapped her arms around a worn travel bag, willing the screen above the single gate to read, FLIGHT CANCELED. Winds howled outside the Quonset hut. Clarice missed family, her cat, her university friends. Luck had landed her an internship on Baffin Island. Would her luck run out? The screen flickered. Others groaned. Clarice rejoiced.

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