The March meeting of the Enid Writers Club will be March 1, 2018, 6:30 pm at NWOSU, 30th and East Randolph. All age groups and skill levels are welcome.
The following is the winner of the February Roll Call Contest:
Six Word Stories
Partners in crime share adjacent cells.
My phantom legs won a marathon.
Henry Ford’s ghost haunts Chevrolet dealerships.
Mount Rushmore loses face during earthquake.
Three blind mice inhabit optometrist’s office.
Sashquatch revealed to be presidential advisor.
January Roll Call
Growing up in rural Oklahoma and loving all animals, she’d asked dad for a horse. He explained how living in town and feeding one were not doable. She was content with her cats and dogs then one day read Robert Frost’s poem, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” and treasured every word. She could imagine being inside a horse pulled sleigh in a forest full of snow.
Years passed, and she put this horse neighing, sleigh ride on a bucket list.
She cringed at the thought of traveling to the mountains then the trek up.
For birthday number seventy, her friends loaned her a virtual reality gizmo and in their company with a hot chocolate party, she went on her sleigh ride. They laughed and sang and later that night in her usual journal writing she began, “Oh what a night.”
It Happened One Night
James C. Arnold
He spewed out a line of guano, got her almost there.
He sees her look of surrender. She’ll follow him anywhere.
Seal the deal. You know you want her. Another battle won.
It’s not her name that matters, it’s the conquest that’s the fun.
She also enjoys the chase, thinking she’s his special girl.
But the only thing he wants, is to take her for a whirl.
Then everything was ruined when he looked deep in her eyes.
Saw intense, unblemished, love – ashamed of all his lies.
It’s become more than a one-night-stand, he had to touch her soul.
Maybe he could redeem his own, that’s now his only goal.
They talked and talked till the morning light, he couldn’t let her go.
For he’d stumbled into a kind of love he never dreamed he’d know.
The turnkey in the old music box still clicked, even after setting unused all these years. The melody tinkled in the hollow air of the old vacant house as I looked at the plaques and photos still hanging on the dusty walls. A profound sadness engulfed me. Where had time gone? Those in the photos were now ghosts, the prints on the plaques reminders that they once existed, full of life, rigor, and happiness. I wanted to crawl into the photos and be with them once again, time at stand still. The wistful wind blowing outside amplified my loneliness. They would not be coming back, ever.
My face wet with tears, I sat and stared at the lifeless photos as the music box wound down and finally stopped playing, “You are my Sunshine.”
Sometimes I see no sense in manic merrymaking.
I think I’ll sit back, read a book and sip a cup of tea.
I send Christmas cards to those whom I remember.
I drop five dollars as my anonymous tithe in a few red kettles.
And singing has eased me from my shell somewhat
To share the joy of music that’s always been in me.
I bought a silly Bah Humbug hat for my hubby.
He’s not a Scrooge at all, just a stay at home kind of guy.
The news, the blues, the heavy hearts, way too many I see.
I do what I can. I pray for the highest good. I wait and see.
Mannheim Steamroller is in town tonight.
I told myself I’d go next time they came.
The same night as EWC. Too bad.
Maybe next time. Bah Humbug!