Welcome, to another episode!
Another week, another #Blog Battle! I can’t say I’ll post to every one of them, but if I think up something when I see the prompt for the week, then I’ll give it a shot.
So, this is the fourth installment of my writings to Rachael Ritchey’s #BlogBattles. So far, response has been decent, though I would, of course, expect just a bit more. Oh, well. I am finally getting some stuff out there, there are finally people reading what I write, and leaving comments. So, I have again progressed. YAY!
So. On with the show. By the way; this story is, once again, different from anything I have tried to write before. I hope it goes over well.
Date to Post: Tuesday, June 16th, 2015
- 1000 words max
- fictional tale (or true if you really want)
- PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!
- Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
- Go for the entertainment value!
- Post your story by Midnight PST
- Use the hashtag #BlogBattle when tweeting your story, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this page, and/or include a link to this page in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
- Have fun!
Witch Or What
“Blast it all, then!” Erma waved her hand above her head as she turned to continue her pacing. “Try and save one of ’em, and what do I get?” She stopped and faced the man who just entered her door. Wagging a finger towards him, “Some bloke like you banging on my door, trying to accuse me of ‘diabolical acts’! Why, if I were some kind of …” she made the two-handed quote signs in midair, streams of steam trailing to make them more solid, “…an ‘agent of the devil’ -whatever that is- I think I would have preferred him dead, Hmm? Maybe I’d be just as well turning you into a frog!” The man backed a bit, bringing his arms, sheathed in the dark blue blazer of his station, across and almost over his face. She had maintained a grimace as long as she could, looking as fierce as he seemed to think she was. Upon seeing the fear and trepidation in his eyes, she burst out laughing. “You actually thought I could do that?” She spoke in disjointed spurts between chortles. “Young man,…” she took a couple of deep breaths to regain some composure, “… I regret to inform you that such claims are purely speculative.” She almost burst out again as his brows raised and he involuntarily lowered his arms. “What, surprised I know how to articulate myself? Regardless, such claims are erroneous. Fictitious, even. I am good with salves, bandages, and the like. If the heart of the patient stops, sometimes, as the case in question here, I can get it going again. There is no magic, I assure you.” She had begun ushering him to back out of her house. “Good day, Sir. I hope they can figure this out.” She leaned her back on the door after closing it near in his face. Whispering, she said, “Besides, a frog with a blue jacket would be most difficult to explain.”