Tag Archives: #blogbattle

#BlogBattle: Worm – Week 44 – To Catch a Fish

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🙂 Tuesday = #Blogbattle

I haven’t joined in for a couple of weeks, but excited to be back at it!!

#BlogBattle is a weekly short story challenge using a single word for inspiration.  Hosted by the talented Rachael Ritchey.  Feel free to join in, or click here to read the current week’s stories and vote for your favorites.

This week’s word:  Worm

Genre:  Non-Fiction

fishing bobber

To Catch a Fish

This is a story about a little girl, a little girl who just wanted to catch a fish. This is my story, that little girl was me.

Growing up in a small town that rests on the edge of Lake Michigan, along with several other smaller lakes within its borders, one was sure to find the perfect fishing spot. My dad was an avid fisherman, and taught us all how to fish. My childhood memories are ones of warm evenings spent with my whole family, fishing at the channel, which at one time connected the smaller Wolf Lake to Lake Michigan.

I’m not sure if my sister and mom actually fished when we went, but they were there nonetheless, probably reading a book or a magazine. Being the youngest after my two brothers, I was a bit of a tomboy growing up, getting caught up playing the things that they enjoyed. So when it came time to fish with my dad and brothers, I was all in. Well, as in as I could be at the age of six. I watched in awe as my brothers cast out their lines with those fancy rods and reels of theirs. It was a true art form, and took practice, with just the right movements to send that bobber out into the lake at the perfect spot. It was all in the timing, as you pulled back, pressed the button to release the line with a flick of the wrist, as you heard the whizzing sound of the line as it would sail through the air. You knew it was a perfect cast, when you heard the ever so slight plop of the bobber as it breached the surface of the glass-like lake, with only a few ripples; your worm on its hook settling in the murky water to wait. Then there was my experience, with my cane pole, and red and white bobber. No skill really needed, I just flung it out into the drink and hoped for the best. My dad always taught us about safety, showing me the hook, and how sharp and pointy it was, and that you needed to be careful as you cast your line out, so that the hook wouldn’t snag you in the back of the head. Even though I was a tomboy, I was still a little girl, and putting a worm on a hook, was not for me. That was my dad’s job, and I was fine with that, and it was key in this little charade he called fishing.

So there I sat, with my cane pole and my red and white bobber just sitting there. We didn’t talk much, if we did it was quiet conversation, as to “not wake the fish.” Even when one of us got a hit, we didn’t get overly excited. It was a simple, “I got one.” As we manned our poles, yet watched the dance between the fish and the fisherman as it was brought to shore. Sure enough as I heard the ‘got one’ on my left, there was two more on my right. Holding on to my trusty pole, just knowing I had to be next, needing to be ready, yet I couldn’t help but turn my attention to my brothers reeling in their catch. Once the excitement wore off, we sat. Then sat some more…waiting. As the sun set and the breeze began to cool, you could hear the gentle lapping of the lake on the shore, and a small voice innocently question, “Hey Dad…why haven’t I caught a fish yet.” Which was always answered with some wise fish tale, that only a six-year old could believe.

Then there was the one evening, as I was growing bored with the whole not catching a fish thing, I started looking through my dad’s tackle box. I found a round tin, with the letters SKOAL on it, not sure what it was, I was bent on finding out. It was a struggle for my small hands, but I figured out that I had to push the top and bottom together real hard and twist to open it. With my fierce determination, I got it opened and the contents of the tin burst out and covered my entire chest. As I looked down, I was coated in what looked like saw dust, and little, tiny, squirmy, white…WORMS!! I’m not sure if anyone else heard the scream like I did in my head. Maybe I actually held it in, as to not wake the fish, but I was totally freaking out. Just as quickly as it happened, it was over as my dad rushed over, brushed everything off of me and saved me from the Bee Moths or saved the Bee Moths from me. With those wormy-like things back in their little home, I went back to my cane pole, and sat…waiting…and sat some more. So much better then being mauled by Bee Moth Larvae, or was it? Unbeknownst to me, there was never a worm on my hook…wait…was there even a hook?

Then one day it happened. My dad, knowing he couldn’t keep up this ruse forever, decided that just him and I would go fishing, early one morning. We got out to the channel just as the sun was rising over the horizon. My dad grabbed two rods and reels from the trunk, and his tackle box. With my eyes wide, I realized the cane pole stayed behind. Is it possible? I got a quick lesson on how to cast out. My first few tries landed my bobber with a ker-plunk in the water not 3 feet from where I was standing. Try again. With my dad’s help, I was able to cast out. Proudly holding on to my precious rod and reel, I sat, waiting…this time with a smile on my face. It’s going to happen today!! Sure enough, I felt that little tug, and then “Dad…I got one!” We both stood, and he coached me as the fish tried to run with the bait in his mouth, “Let him go for a little bit, then reel him in.” I did that a few times, excitement pounding in my ears, mixed in with the whirling sound of the reel as I brought my catch to shore. My dad grabbed the line, and pulled it out of the water. There on the end, frantically flipping, was my first catch, a nice little Perch. I finally did it!!

© Carrie Ann (dated 1974)

OK…so I totally exercised my artistic license on that last paragraph. I really don’t remember actually fishing that day, but I do remember taking this picture, and I’m sure I actually caught this particular fish. I am smiling so broadly not because I was proud of my catch, but those things are slippery little suckers, and it was hard to hold on to.

As we got older, my brothers moved on, and lost interest in fishing. I totally lost interest, and set my sights on gaining some fashion sense, thank God. (Either my dad dressed me that morning, or these were hopefully my ‘fishin’ clothes.’) My dad went on to bigger and better fishing opportunities. Fishing with his buddies on their boats, or going out alone and fishing off the shore of Lake Michigan, which earned him the Indiana State Record in 1983 by catching the largest Brown Trout weighing in at 22 lbs. 8 oz.  A title he held on to for several years.

Today, you probably couldn’t pay me to go fishing. I’ve put my time in, thank you very much. But I’m grateful for the time spent with my family and the memories I have. However, just like any good fish story, the details are subject to over-exaggeration with each telling.

© Carrie Ann

#BlogBattle: Flake – Week 41 – Just One Snowflake

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Tuesday = #Blogbattle

#BlogBattle is a weekly short story challenge using a single word for inspiration.  Hosted by the talented Rachael Ritchey.  Feel free to join in, or click here to read the current week’s stories and vote for your favorites.

This week’s word:  Flake

Genre:  Romance

I am becoming as predictable as the Hallmark Channel Romances…will have to work on that in the new year. (I don’t like predictable 😐 ) With the word being flake and the time of year it is, my story had to be about snow, lol.  Maybe it’s just my longing for a white Christmas…nonetheless here’s my story 🙂

Just One Snowflake

Madison thought she could get away with answering emails using her phone until her wifi was hooked up in her new house, but no such luck.  She only had a couple more boxes to unpack, when her phone chirps.  She skims through the long email, then groans as she realizes she would need her laptop to reply.  She wasn’t planning a trip to the library, but it looks like that is where she is headed.  Oh well, she could use a break from the unpacking, it shouldn’t take her too long, plus she could stop at the grocery store for some food before the early winter storm hit.  The weatherman was estimating it to begin well after midnight.

With her laptop in tow, she steps into the library, and is flooded with a deluge of memories from her childhood.  How many hours did spend in this place?  The familiar look and feel of it brought a smile to her face, as a sense of comfort enveloped her like a favorite sweater.  The only difference to the old building were the upgrades that were seamlessly integrated into the original architecture.

She focused on getting her work done as quickly as possible.  When she finishes she packs up her things, thinking about a few items she needs to add to her list for the grocery store.  When she steps out the door, she cannot believe her eyes.  There is at least 4 inches of snow already on the ground.  How long had she been in there?  She checks the time on her phone and realizes a good hour and a half had passed.  She slips her phone back into her pocket and retrieves her gloves, so grateful that she had stuffed them in her pockets earlier.  Not that she was all prepared or anything, it was just that she had been freezing since she got here, obviously her body had not adjusted to the colder weather.  She trudges over to her snow-covered car, yeah, so not prepared, she would have to clean it off just by using her hands.  She stashes her computer bag and purse in the back seat, and begins clearing off her windows, she just wishes her gloves weren’t getting soaked so quickly, her fingers begin to get cold.  Just then from behind her she hears a deep male voice say, “May I help?”

As she turns towards the voice, her eyes are stopped by a broad chest, bundled in black wool, her eyes skim up past the gray cashmere scarf and land on a set of chocolate brown eyes that make her pulse stop.  Her mind screams, Oh, heck yeah!!  But when she can get her brain and mouth to work together, she stammers, “Uh….yes, thank you.”

With a gorgeous smile accented with a dimple, of course, he hands her one of the two snow brushes he held in his leather-clad hands,  “This won’t take long if we work together.  You must not be from around here.”  She interprets the comment as a friendly jab to her unpreparedness.

“Not recently, but I grew up here, and forgot how quickly these storms can move in.  Besides, the weatherman said this wouldn’t hit until after midnight.”  She replies in her defense.

“You know they are right like…only 25% of the time?” he says with a quiet laugh.

“Very funny.  Well when I left there wasn’t a flake or a flurry in the sky.  Plus…it’s November.”  She shrugs and says, “No big deal.”  She stretches her arms out and looks up to the sky, letting the fluffy flakes pepper her face, she exclaims, “Oh, I’ve missed this.  Look how beautiful it is!!”

“Yes, yes it is.”  He replies not taking his eyes off of her.

As they finish up, she says, “Thanks so much for your help,” handing him the snow brush.  “I really appreciate it, let me buy you some coffee or hot chocolate, unless you have someplace to be.”  She looks at him, thinking something about him seems familiar.

“You’re very welcome, actually a cup of coffee sounds great, thank you.”  He takes the snow brush from her.

“Since my car is cleaned off, I’ll drive, hop in.”  She starts the car and they settle in.  “By the way, I’m Madison Landers.”

“Nice to meet you, Madison, I’m Noah Ross.”  They both say his last name at the same time, Madison’s eyes widen with revelation.  “I thought you looked familiar.  Your sister and I were best friends when we were in high school.  I only met you a couple of times, then you left for college.”

He searched her face and then he remembered, “Maddie.”

“Yep, you remembered.” She says with a laugh.

“How could I not?  You and Natalie were inseparable.  Do you still keep in touch?”

Madison nods her head, “I actually talked to her not too long ago, told her I was heading back home.  We made plans to get together at Christmas when she’s home.”

Noah and Madison continue to talk and catch up.  Coffee turns into dinner, and dinner turns into spending their free time together, and talking daily.

On Christmas Eve they decide to have a nice quiet dinner at Madison’s.  As she gets ready, she reflects on the things that have taken place over the past month.  Funny how she was reluctant to come back home, she never thought about relocating, she enjoyed her life in Arizona.  But when the opportunity came up to go back to her hometown, something about it felt right.  Now she knows why.  Meeting Noah was so unexpected, but definitely a welcomed surprise.

There’s a knock at the door.  Madison opens the door to a blast of cold air and swirling snow crystals.  Noah steps in and hands her a bottle of wine, as he brushes himself off and removes his coat.  She takes the wine to the kitchen.  Noah walks in holding a small box in his hand.  “Before we eat dinner, I want you to open this.”  He says as the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile.

Madison opens it and finds a delicate silver snowflake necklace, laced with diamonds resting on light blue velvet.  “Oh, Noah, it’s beautiful!!  Thank you.”

“When I saw it, I just had to get it for you, since you love snow.  Also, to remind you that it takes just one snowflake to create a snow storm, and that is what brought us together.”

She took it out of the box and handed it to him, “Help me put it on.”  She moved her hair to the side as he fastened the clasp.  When she turned around for him to see she asked, “How does it look.”

“Beautiful, just like you.  Merry Christmas Maddie.”  He pulls her close, then brushes a tender kiss on her lips, one that is full of love and promise…for always.

© 2015 Carrie Ann

#BlogBattle: Bricks – Week 39 – A Walk in the Snow

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Tuesday = #Blogbattle

#BlogBattle is a weekly short story challenge using a single word for inspiration.  Hosted by the talented Rachael Ritchey.  Feel free to join in, or click here to read the current week’s stories and vote for your favorites.

This week’s word:  Bricks

Genre:  Romance

A Walk in the Snow

How is it that she found herself sitting across from this man?  She didn’t plan on being in this position ever again…laughing, talking…feeling.  It wasn’t that she was heartless, it’s just that her heart wasn’t available; it was guarded by the wall she carefully built around it.  Yet was it?

Anya has had her share of disappointment and heartache throughout her life.  She learned early on not to make each disappointment a litany of her life, she moved on.  But it was her last relationship that taught her to guard her heart once and for all.  He was her first love.  When she was ready to go away to college, he talked her into staying locally.  At the time it didn’t seem such a great sacrifice.  After all they talked of a future together, they declared their love for one another.  She wasn’t going to give up on her dreams altogether, just taking a different path to pursue them.  Besides, they were together.  Until they weren’t.  A few weeks before Christmas he left her.  He didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.  One day he was just gone, left without a trace, vanished into thin air, like he fell off the face of the earth…well…you get the picture.

In the beginning she wondered why.  It was always the why.  Each day it was his voice that she heard, as she rehashed their time together in her mind.  Until she decided to use each one of those memories, every negative word spoken against her, every inconsiderate action, as bricks to build a wall around her heart.  Each tear that fell served as the mortar to cement them together.  She poured her energies into her schooling and became a successful Advertising Executive.  Never looking back again.  She would date, go out and have fun, but she only let people get so close.  There were a few that got close to the wall, but that was it, she wouldn’t allow them to peek over.  She wouldn’t take that chance again.

Then one day she met Justice. Justice made her heart beat a little faster whenever he was near.  The more time they spent together the more her heart ached to be free to love again.  She found herself feeling things she hadn’t felt in years.  Things she didn’t allow herself to feel this passionately.

She enjoyed their time together, but the more time they spent together, the more it unsettled her.  Because the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel, with each genuine compliment, each considerate gesture he bestowed upon her, she found her bricks began to come down, one by one.  Who was he?  She didn’t trust many people, could she trust him?  She could hear the answer echo off those brick walls, as a plea for freedom.

It was during the long, late night conversations that she found herself offering up one of the bricks in the form of a long buried desire.  Bracing herself for when he would carelessly throw it back at her, instead he held onto it as if it were a precious gift, only wanting to use this shared secret to make her happy.  This was the case when she tells him how she loves when it snows, loved Christmastime as a kid, but as an adult, not so much.  He quietly listens as she tells him the painful reason why.

“I’m sorry you haven’t had a nice Christmas, Anya.” He replies. “Christmas is my favorite time of year, it’s when all seems right with the world.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve felt that way,” she says.

“Well, I’m going to have to change that.”

♥ ❤ ♥

A week before Christmas, after a long day at work, Anya is at home making herself a cup of hot chocolate.  As she waits for the milk to heat up she watches the falling snow from her kitchen window.  The sense of peace and wonder settles over her soul.  Just then her phone chirps, a text message from Justice.

What are you doing?
Making some hot chocolate.
Stop.  Come outside and play in the snow.
What? Seriously?
Yes…I’m waiting for you on your front porch.

Just then there is a knock at her door.  Who does this?  She opens the door, and sure enough he’s there, covered in large, fluffy flakes.  “Play in the snow, really Justice?” She says flatly.

“OK, OK, let’s take a walk then.  It’s snowing!!  I’ll buy you some hot chocolate at Starbucks.” He says with a gorgeous smile that she can’t resist.

They walk with their fingers entwined, absorbing the silent beauty, with their footprints side by side, making tracks in the new fallen snow.

When they get to Starbucks, they find a table in the corner; he helps her out of her coat, and orders their hot beverages.  She watches as he talks with the Barista, not in a flirtatious way, but with the kindness that is the essence of him.

As Christmas music plays in the background, Anya asks, “So what are your plans for the holidays?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.  My hope is that I’m Christmasing with you.” He says as he takes a sip of coffee.

Laughing she replies, “Is that even a word?”

“It’s a word,” he says as he puts his cup down.  “It’s actually a lyric in a song.  I’m serious Anya, I want to spend Christmas with you, I want you to enjoy it just like you did as a kid.”

“I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas, I’m all yours.” She says with a sparkle in her eye, and a smile filled with pure joy.  How is it that she found herself sitting across from this man?  Only she can hear the answer, a thud inside her chest as the last few bricks crumble away from her heart.

With that gorgeous smile he says, “Good…because all I want for Christmas is you.” With his index finger, he brushes the hair from her eyes and kisses her on the cheek.

 

© 2015 Carrie Ann

#BlogBattle: Fallow – Week 38 – Nature’s Haven

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🙂 Tuesday is upon us once again!! Let the #Blogbattle begin!!

#BlogBattle is a weekly short story challenge using a single word for inspiration.  Hosted by the talented Rachael Ritchey.  Feel free to join in, or click here to read the current week’s stories and vote for your favorites.

This week’s word:  Fallow (yep…had to look it up, several times 🙂 )

Genre:  Romance/Drama

Nature’s Haven

People often referred to Liam as a recluse. He would just nod his head in agreement, no need trying to explain yourself when a person has already judged and labeled you.  No, he wasn’t a recluse, he just likes his solitude.  He lives alone, with no family in the area, he works, and spends time in his studio painting.  Over the years he found that too much going out for the sake of just going out, was a distraction that interrupted his creative flow.  He had a goal.  He was working on getting enough material together so that he could have his own showing at the local art gallery.

He works at a job that he tolerates enough so that he has a place to call home and a separate place to do his painting.  His home isn’t anything fancy, it’s actually a second floor, one bedroom condo, just right for him.  He’s happy with where he is in life and where he is headed.  Then one day it all went down in flames…literally.  It was an accident, caused by one of the other tenants in the building. Luckily, everyone escaped unharmed, but they lost everything.  He was so grateful that all his paintings and supplies were in a different location, but still, losing all your earthly possessions, sure does knock you off balance.

It’s been months since he has been able to paint.  Even after finding another place to live, and replacing some of his creature comforts, he just can’t seem to find inspiration.  That is why he took some time off, and is now spending it in a little cabin in the woods by the lake. Getting out into nature should help him snap out of this funk.

After a good nights sleep, and his first morning there, he begins his trek through the wooded forest, anticipating the burst of colors that arrive every fall.  He stays on the designated paths for the most part, but at one point he decides to veer off, and go deeper into the forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of some of the wildlife, maybe a fallow deer.  With each step he takes into the crisp cool air, relishing each natural sound that reverberates in his soul, he feels the muddledness of his mind break away piece by piece.  Walking towards the lake, he takes in each detail that surrounds him.  He makes a mental note to return to the lake to experience the rising and setting of the sun. Looking out towards the horizon, he can picture what it just might look like.  Now, the sun is brightly shining off the smooth calmness of the water, he returns to the path that would take him back to his cabin.  In the distance he can hear a rhythmic sound of footfalls on the graveled path, it was a unique steady rhythm, nothing clumsy about it at all, determined actually.  It reminded him of a reggae beat with an emphasis on the first and third note.  As if hypnotized by the sound, he finally looks up and sees a beautiful woman jogging towards him, ear buds in her ears, the swaying of her copper pony tail perfectly in sync with the drumming of her feet.  The sun shining down on her highlights strands of shimmering gold nestled in a sea of ginger, and when she looks at him, it’s as if he was looking into a tropical ocean.  She keeps her steady pace as she moves past him with a dazzling smile, and a slight wave of her hand, she continues down the path.

That evening he decides to sit by the lake to take in the sunset, and to enjoy the unseasonably warm temperatures.  It was then that he notices she must have had the same idea.  A little ways down the shoreline he can see her sitting in a folding chair, sipping on a beverage.  He stands there unsure wondering if he should approach her or not.  Just then she looks up and when she sees him, she raises her arm to wave, then motions for him to join her.

He walks over to where she is sitting.  She reaches out her hand to introduce herself, “Hi, I’m Dahlia.”

“Hello Dahlia, I’m Liam, nice to meet you.”  He sits down on the ground next to her, with his knees bent, he rests his arms on them.

They talk for hours.  He tells her about losing everything in the fire, how it has affected him and the problem he is having trying to find the right inspiration to paint.  Dahlia tells him that she is on somewhat of a healing retreat, physically and emotionally.  She needed this time after a tumultuous relationship with her ex-boyfriend and the accident that left her without a left leg from the knee down.  Just then she stretches out her leg, and he sees her prosthesis.

“Dahlia, boy do I feel like a jerk.  Here I am going on and on about me losing just stuff, when you have dealt with losing part of your leg.”

She laughs and waves him off, “How were you to know? But just like you I had to move forward, and I am determined not to let it slow me down.” She says with a confident grin.

The conversation stops as the last bit of the sun sets over the horizon.  Reluctantly, he returns to his cabin, however, believing he has found his muse.

There is no way he can sleep now after spending the evening with such an incredible person.  Besides, his creativity has lain fallow long enough.  He works well into the early morning hours, but yet he feels energized, alive!!  Finally!!

When he sees her on the path, he briefly jogs along side her, not wanting to break her stride and asks her to stop by later that evening.  She agrees without losing pace.

When she arrives, the table is set and he has a stew simmering on the stove.
“You made me dinner.” She says with more appreciation in her voice than surprise.

“Oh…yeah…well we need to eat.”  He says with a shrug.  “But this is what I wanted you to see.”

He shows her the painting, it’s her.  Standing by the lake.  She steps closer to take in every detail.  He steps back to give her room, silently praying that it doesn’t freak her out.  She looks back at him and says, “Liam, it’s beautiful.”  Then turns away before he can see the tears forming in her eyes.  Is that how he actually sees me? Her past and the accident made her feel anything but beautiful.

As if reading her mind, he says, “Dahlia, you’re beautiful.  You have inspired me.  I can see the difference in my work, the colors, the details, are so much more vibrant.  This dinner was my way of thanking you.  You’ll never know what you have done for me.”   He steps in front of her and wraps his arms around her and pulls her in a hug then whispers in her ear, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you Liam,” she says holding unto him, as if his tight embrace would put all her broken pieces back together.

 

© 2015 Carrie Ann

#BlogBattle: Bottle – Week 36 – The Sun Will Rise

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🙂 Tuesday is upon us once again!!

I’m back and ready to battle…let the #Blogbattle begin!!

#BlogBattle is a weekly short story challenge using a single word for inspiration.  Hosted by the talented Rachael Ritchey.  Feel free to join in, or click here to read the current week’s stories and vote for your favorites.

This week’s word:  Bottle

Genre:  Romance

The Sun Will Rise

March 26, 2014 – Shores of Lake Michigan, Indiana

This is not going to be the message you expected to find in a bottle, but here goes.  Three days ago I buried my best friend…gone too soon, but never to be forgotten.  Please don’t EVER text and drive.  I have allowed myself a three-day pizza and beer bender, while Netflixing.  I write this note as a promise not only to myself, but to my best friend, that tomorrow I will begin to move forward on the endeavor we set out to accomplish together and not stop until it is successful.  I now sit and watch the sun set, while drinking my last Heineken.  The bottle will encapsulate this promise and carry it on the waves of the future.  Please acknowledge receipt of this message by contacting me at the email address below, (yeah I know, not usually how it works…whatever) by doing so you will hold me accountable and verify that I have kept my promise.

I know you were not expecting to be entering into an agreement with a guy in a beer laced cheese coma. As my thank you I will leave you with the words of wisdom that brought me out of my stupor, I hope it speaks to you.  This nugget from Victor Hugo…

Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.

Sincerely,
ThatOneGuyMark@email.net

 

August 4, 2015 – Shores of Lake Michigan, Michigan

Neve finds herself walking along the beach, the sound of the waves and the slight breeze dancing through her hair helps calm her racing thoughts.  Making this life decision has felt like one of her darkest nights.  All the research, knowledge and support from genetic specialists doesn’t make it any easier.  With her family history of breast cancer, having this preventive surgery will save her life, though coming to this conclusion has been the most difficult thing to do.

She never imagined at the age of 32 she would be facing all this alone.  Well not completely alone, her best friend Jen will be by her side every step of the way.  Thinking of Jen’s support brings a smile to her face and with that she sends up a silent prayer of thanks and looks to the heavens seeking some comfort for her anxious soul.

She walks a few more feet and almost trips on a bottle stuck in the sand, she picks it up and brushes it off.  There is a piece of paper in it.  She smiles to herself at the absurdity of finding a message in a bottle.  But she reads it nonetheless.  She folds the paper and slips it into her back pocket, with a tear streaming down her cheek, she hugs the bottle to herself as she watches the sun set.  As if doing so will connect her somehow through the space-time continuum with the sender and their shared heartache.

When she arrives home she places the bottle on the kitchen windowsill and turns on her laptop, using the email address that doesn’t give away any of her personal information but a nod to her favorite Avenger, Black Widow.  She sends the following message:

To:  ThatOneGuyMark@email.net
From: NatashaRomanoff@email.net
RE: Message in a bottle.

Message received.  I am so sorry to hear about your friend.  From the date on the note, it looks like it’s been almost a year and a half.  Have you kept your promise?  Your words of wisdom did speak to me, more than you’ll ever know.

By the way…the bottle is actually worth 10 cents in Michigan, thank you for that…I’ll deposit it into my retirement fund. 🙂

~N

Neve closes her laptop, not giving the message another thought.

~ ♥ ~

Mark walks into his dark house after another late night at work.  He feels like he hasn’t stopped since he hit the ground running a year and a half ago.  He knows he wouldn’t be where he is today, had he not given 150% of himself to this endeavor.  Even though he is tired to the bone, it was the best way to honor his friend’s memory.

He turns on the TV while checking his personal emails.  He goes down the list checking off the ones to delete, he pauses, his eyes lock on a particular message.  Not because the sender is Black Widow, but because of the subject line he clicks on it to open it, while fuzzy memories like an old movie invade his mind.  Once he reads the message, it all comes back to him and he sends back a reply.

His simple reply turns into daily conversations with this amazing stranger, who has become more than a friend.  They have shared every detail of their lives through emails, texts, phone conversations and video chats, it is only the four-hour physical distance that keeps them from each other.  Neve was careful in the beginning not to identify who she actually was, until she knew she could trust him.  Even after she told him where she lived and what her name was, he continued to call her Natasha, because when he did, it felt like that smile was created just for him.  It’s during the video chats that he can see the anxiety and fear in her eyes when she talks about her upcoming surgery.  But she masks it with an expression of fearlessness that can only be matched by her virtual namesake, all the while assuring him that having Jen with her will be enough.  He is not convinced.

On the morning of the surgery, she is up and ready to go before it is light out.  Her phone rings, she assumes it is Jen, but it’s Mark.  The sound of his voice calms her nerves a little, but at the same time it makes her heart beat a little faster at the realization of how much he cares.  It is a brief conversation because it is time for her to go.

Neve locks her front door and turns to head towards the car, before she can open the door, from behind her she hears, “Hello Natasha.”

“Mark.” She says on a breath, instinctively knowing it’s him before she even turns around.  In a matter of seconds she is wrapped up in his arms.  As she holds on to him, in the distance the sun rises, just like he said it would.

© 2015 Carrie Ann