The Blogs are Alive with the Sound of Writing Challenges

Spring is in the air (you can tell because of all the sneezing and watery eyes) and the writing challenges are blossoming. My writing challenge runs all through April. Here are a few more challenges to get you in the mood for Spring:

April Flash Fiction Challenge at Soldiering Through the Writing World.

Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge at terribleminds (runs through Friday 4/8, but new challenges are posted weekly).

Be Kind Rewrite’s Inspiration Monday IV is up and running through next Monday (4/11).

Cafe Muravyets offers another delectable 50-word story challenge for the month of April.

Madison Woods is participating in an A-Z blogging challenge for April which can be both an opportunity to get you blogging everyday and show a little fiction bling for every letter of the alphabet.

And here is my entry for my April Writing Challenge:

Where Do Email Words Live?

New diner opened up on Greene. Just the way you like it. Cookie jar collection on shelves all around the place. Meatloaf and sweet potato pie. Chili and cornbread with honey butter. Bacon and eggs and home fried potatoes. About a zillion kinds of pie. Jenny and I went for lunch yesterday. Waitress called me “hon” as in “What’ll you have, hon?” I had a reuben and a chocolate shake in your honor. Out of this world. Bet you’re jealous.

Your shows are piling up on the DVR. And golf stuff. How can you watch golf stuff for three hours at a stretch. Guess I’ll never get it. *shrug* Might have to delete a couple of things. Just to make room. Not much time to watch tv lately.

I dreamed that we were eating pho on the patio of Pho Ever. It was raining but the awning kept us dry. The streets looked like the streets in that painting. You said you were ready now. I asked what you were ready for but a bus painted with big, psychedelic flowers drove by and caught my eye. I looked back and you weren’t there. Only your bowl of pho, not even touched, sat there steaming.

Why won’t you talk to me? Why do you leave me like this? Everyday I wake up and it’s the same. Worse. It doesn’t get better like they said it would. It just gets worse. It’s like walking around with a cement coat. I can’t breathe.

I saw you yesterday and followed you for six blocks. Past that coffee place with the killer blueberry muffins where we used to go Saturday mornings. Past the empty place that always smells weird. Past the arcade. Past the park. All the way to the market. Then you turned. And it wasn’t you. It never is.

Can you read these emails? Where do email words live? Do they just drift off into cyberspace?

Do you miss me where you are?  Or is everything bliss and the things of earth no longer matter? Do you still love me? Will you be waiting for me when it’s my turn. I wish it was my turn already. I wish–

What’s the good of wishing for something that will never happen? I’m done with this. It’s not helping me anymore. I don’t care what that therapist says. He can bite me. Is that too old school – “bite me”?

I’m sorry. I couldn’t  I don’t  I just miss you. That’s all. I don’t know what to say any more. I look at the screen. Blinking cursor. Send these emails to your account. And then I read them myself. Your password is my birthday. You dork. Don’t you know hackers can figure that stuff out? Or maybe they’d only guess your birthday or our anniversary or something.

If only you could see these emails. If only somebody could. It’s like nobody remembers anymore. They won’t even say your name. Don’t look me in the eye when they talk. Walk around me…like walking on eggshells. Get nervous when they see me coming. I know what they’re thinking: What do we say to her? What do we say? They can damn well talk to me! That’s what they can say. They can say your name! They can say your name before it fades from the universe! Have you faded from the universe?

I’m going to close your email account. It’s really not helping. I just keep typing and typing and typing and typing. Like one of those hamsters in a wheel or something. Remember the hamster we had in Mrs. Henry’s class. Was that 3^rd grade? Man, I even liked you back then. Probably since kindergarten or something. You just thought I was one of the boys. Or a sister maybe. Because our moms were such good friends. Remember how they used to smoke cigarettes in the backyard? Outside because they didn’t want our dads to know.

I’m gonna close the account. I am. Tomorrow.

I know it’s been a couple of days. Maybe more than a couple. I just couldn’t open your account. I couldn’t stand to see that last message. I swore I was going to read it and then delete each message before deleting the account. I wish I’d written you letters instead. On real paper. With a nice pen. I’d have gone out and gotten one of those fancy pens we used to look at but never buy. I’d have put perfume on it. The letter, not the pen. Your favorite perfume. The one you said smelled like that Summer in Old Man Frank’s field. Strawberries and grass and oak trees. That was the first time you said, “I love you.” Dammit! I can’t do this now.

Okay, okay. I can do this. I can. I still wish I’d written letters on real paper. Then I could burn them one by one and maybe send those words up to you. Wherever you are. The smoke would go up and you’d smell the words and perfume and you’d know I still love you. Do you know I still love you?

I think I’m ready now. It’s time.

Oh crap. The server’s gone nuts or something. The inbox is blinking. There are messages. A freaking frag-load of messages. Spam probably. Freaking spammers. Don’t they know you can’t even read the spam? There’s some special place in Hell for spammers. I know it. Dante would have written about it if he’d had a computer. I’ll get rid of it before I close the account. The least I can do.

I love you.

I love you.

I hear you.

I love you.

I still love you.

I haven’t forgotten.

I’ll never forget.

I’ll be waiting. It’ll be a long time, baby. ‘Cause you got so many miles yet to go. But I’ll be waiting.

I love you…

And there it is, my writing challenge entry in all it’s glory. You may applaude now.

What writing challenges are you working on this week/month? What have you read that’s inspired you recently?

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