Late to Camp NaNoWriMo

https://nanowrimo.org/participants/rebekah1213 My NaNoWriMo profile

Stories from this blog prompt …. https://rebekahquinne.wordpress.com/2024/04/01/camp-nanowrimo-5/ 

It was 2:30am when I heard the honk …I was already dressed in case I had to rush to the bus. I was already packed and my phone was 78% charged.  I raced to the bus…..

I get on the bus as there are six other people all fixing their hair or just getting dressed…..

I groaned …”Rebekah, you are almost the last one … .there were total.of nine who missed the bus this year, so you get the last cabin.” the driver explained as I got in and sighed. 

We picked up the last two people who were both in onesies each with a simple backpack. She had an orange onesie with pigtails, and he had a Scooby Doo onesie with stuffies Scooby. They both sat with me as we all instantly felt close and connected. 

We all sat around as there was an older lady in the passenger seat at the gas station, she got us coffee and some muffins. 

She sat with us….”we are going around saying your name and what do you write …” she smiled. 

“I’m your cabin leader Anne. I write fantasy short stories.” She giggled and smiled. 

We went around the bus….

  1. Belle wrote stories that can end all races. She was hoping camp would help her finish her book. 
  2. Paige wrote children’s books as she was a teacher and she was inspired by her own kids and students. 
  3. Alexis wrote books about owning a TV station and the drama that goes with producing a TV show. 
  4. Jack wrote stories of health issues, bonds of friends, secret plots of his frenemies and how he was a bad boy. 
  5. Max wrote several novels on how everything should be lived to max. He had a hard time finishing any of the stories. 
  6. She went by Shadow fun and wrote about erotica and darker tales. 
  7. I am Rebekah and write drama, personal stories and my favorite horror stories. My stories did have some adult themes 
  8. River wrote erotica and sci-fi with both  books and short stories. 
  9. Rayven wrote sci-fi drama and erotica stories.

We told our stories….my stories. 

Story one. . . Growl

I walk into the store just as my cell phone goes off. . . It was agent. I couldn’t believe I was big enough that I had an agent, lawyer, and accountant. I was almost as famous as Rice (I was way better than Meyer.)

“Did you find the driver and got to the New York store?” Chad Alison asked.

“Yes, I did. We are here and doing well. I read from chapter three and then sign books for two hours.” I retell the events.

“Then you and your husband meet me at” He went on about the latest pop restaurant in New York.

“I have a huge announcement for you.” He was so excited, so I hyper and nervous. My sweetie rubbed my shoulder as he directed me to the front desk as I still have my cell phone up to my ear.

“Well, we need to go. We will meet you there at seven tonight.” I explained and said Bye to get off the phone.

There was over hundred people in the store. I read a small scene about challenge of being a vampire in the past. It was from Book 3: Danielle and she was a gypsy, so she had extra magic and charm but was so much stronger at night.

I explained how I got started with vampires, and I gave credit to National Novel Writing month (NaNoWriMo). I even put the website in my books. I love Stroker’s Dracula and Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. We answered a few questions and then I signed several dozen books.

Later that evening, my husband and I met my agent at the fancy restaurant. I was just in simple dress and my guy in a simple dark blue suit and we still felt under dressed. We saw several celebrities complaining that the soup was too cold. It was supposed to be cold as it was a Watermelon soup to cleanse the palate.

“So you said you had good news?” I blurted out nervous and excited and still hyped over the signing.

“Yes, they want to make Book one: Melzela into a movie.” He smiled hyped as well. I wanted to squeak and scream; it took all of me to stay calm.

“That is amazing.” My husband stated as I could heard negotiating in his voice. He was already on the phone with our lawyer to look over the contract. We had five courses including dessert and celebrated the good news. . . minus the complaining celebs, the food was amazing.

I woke up with a smile on my face. I stretched only to feel that my phone was not on my end table. . I sat up so fast that I got entangled in my CPAP tube. I tried to take the mask off with nervous and blurred vision as the clip on the mask flicked me in the eye. I growled as hold my eye. . . I shift to side of the bed as my barefoot step into something cold and squishy. I growled again. I turned my entire body to use my good eye. I found my glasses, on the edge of the table. Then I see my phone flipped on the floor between the table and bed. I noticed that my green headset was chewed through . . . It was my cat Bonkers; that was the third set he ate through that month and I didn’t have a backup pair. I growled yet again. I found a dirty towel, cleaned off my foot, and the gross mess that Bonkers left when he choked on my green cord.

I looked at my phone. . . “**** I over slept.” I had overslept by at least an hour as I had not heard my alarm go off. I barely dressed in my sweatpants and a oversize hoodie, with a unkempt fizzy bun and raced to the local gas station a few blocks down the street. It was a total of twenty minute walk both ways combined, but I needed a headset with microphone; I do all of my music, mediation, and phone calls that way. I growled at I look at the slim choices that all over priced by at least ten dollars. I re-budgeted my groceries in my head as I bought sparkly pink one. The cashier didn’t even greet me, nor did I greet him, we both knew it was just one of the get our stuff, pay for it, and get out transactions.

I got home put a bagel, I look all over the refrigerator for the cream cheese that I bought for the bagels. However the bagel was popped and now more cool than warm as I find that the cream was opened, and left out over night as my brother used it on crackers, but never put it away. However was it last night or the night before, because the cheese was crusted hard and I’m not sure if that green was another food or mold. . . Ewww. . . I growl as I try to spread butter on my cold, hard bagel. I grabbed a cup of coffee only to find that my brother put my favorite creamer back in the refrigerator empty. I growled again.

I finally took a shower only to find that the water was on temp. . . our neighbor had used all of hot water, between using their dish washer, and all four of them showering in the morning. Then I only got shampoo in my eye, and I spent five extra minutes washing suds out of my sensitive and sore eyes. I growled several times as I dry off. I finally get dressed, but I heard a honk on the bus. . . I look out of the window as I racing to finish packing. . . I growl to bare see the bus decorated with a book and a rainbow over it as the words Camp NaNoWriMo was on it. . . .I raced out in bare feet and un-brushed wet hair to see that bus had pass. No one saw me run after it, except my brother who was eating my pizza rolls. Then he said. . . “there was the bus.” . . . No S***. . . I growled.

Story two: Order in the Court

I was getting my things together and packing for writing camp when I heard a knocking noises like the sound of a hammer . . . like a gravel on a judge’s bench. I couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from, but looked around, but it was getting louder almost like a hammer meets a very hard slow drumming sound. As I get closer to my notebook, the sound was so loud that it was giving me a headache. . . I could also hear muffled voices. . . and I heard :”Order. . . Order in the court!” I was confused where it was coming from. . . I looked around, but the sound was strong around my notebook.

I got pulled into as soon as I opened my book. . . It was like a cartoon, my body for just second was like a piece of flexible goo that got sucked up into the vacuum.

I merge in front of a huge wood door that that had the Justice Tarot card engraved in the wood. It was a woman blindfold holding up a scale.

“Go in . . . you are late.” A clumsy man with a black briefcase told me. . . I opened the door as the court room is full of so many different characters. Cat people from a sci-fi story I wanted to write with my talented hubby. My hubby is dressed in a sci-fi space outfit. A beautiful woman in black and orange dress sat next to the Cat people as I knew that was the character I wanted to create for my amazing Rayven. Dragons all with my brother’s faces stuck in them as if they were ideas from a children’s book I wanted to write, but never got around to time. All of my vampires were there, a few witches, a bunch of ghosts, and even my inner demons in physical forms, some were mean but gorgeous, others were just natural hideous forms.

There was a judge a Gothic younger chick who would smile at the characters but frown at me. She had spiderweb with eye makeup on her temples.

“Rebekah, do you know why you are here?” She asked. . . .

“Honestly, no I do not, your honor.” I replied. All of the characters booed.

“You have condemned of having favorite characters.” She sighed in her condemn.

“Is that a crime?” I was confused.

“I will admit I do have some characters that their stories just come out better, and therefore make it easier to write. As for favorite, each character has there own merit.” I explained.

“Lair.” Several of the characters blurted out.

“Which ones are my favorites and which ones feel left out?” I wanted answers. I wanted to know what was the real crime and what was supposed punishment for the crime. They made a list of me claiming that I favor the vampires, ghosts, and witches the most. The Dragons, unicorns both declared that they wanted more attention.

“I write more horror than fantasy.” It was my rebuttal.

“There is a very fine line between horror and fantasy.” They argued back.

“Dragons can easily be horror. They breathe fire and make you a roasted marshmallow human.” It was another argument.

“You can have unicorn take you out with their horn.” Another character shouted. . .

“What do you say to that?” The judge asked me.

“I rather be friend a dragon or unicorn, not have them kill me.” They all grumbled at my reply.

“Why don’t you use more elves or fairies in your work?” They asked as the first two rows was a mixture of elves and fairies. They all looked mad at me.

“Again, I write horror, not fantasy.” I growled. They growled back.

“Disney really messed up my vision of fairies with Tinkerbell.” I added. “Blame Disney. It’s hard to see you that dark between Disney and then Lord of the Rings.” I rolled my eyes. “I like vampire for the power, sex appeal, and their emotions are just more intense. It’s hard for me to see this in elves or fairies.”

The crowds all started to grumble that the judge had to say. . . “Order in the court.” She smacked her gavel. They quieted down. I was still confused.

“What about your drama work?” A shy and quiet voice an awkward geeky preteenager asked questioned me.

“What about it?” I asked. I know I have written a few drama pieces working on a fear or emotional issue.

“What about the sibling to the main character?” He asked another question.

“The thing is I write the story. . . the character that pulls to me. Once I am a published author and others read my work, and they feel that your story needs out ,then they can write it.” He growled at my answer.

“What makes your story better than the main character’s story?” I asked him.

“You got everything handed to you even after your parents died. Your sister busted her ass to go to school, work, and take care of you. You even bought a violent video game even though you knew you were not supposed to. . . Why should I write about the brat?” I knew the exact character it was. 

“I can’t tell everyone’s story. I write what characters and stories come to me. They need to pull and hold my interest. I have favorite genres, and yes, I prefer horror over fantasy. If the other character pulled me, and I had the time, I would write your story too. My head is always running with several projects and now my inner demons want their stories told, so I’m doing therapy as well as writing…so give me a d*** break!” I barked at them. 

“I’m just a human.” I sighed. 

“Make it interesting, pull my interest … .I’m a newbie with fantasy, with sci-fi … .adding more genres while I’m trying to finish others can get overwhelming.” I added and argued. 

“I’m starting slow. This doesn’t mean I have extreme favorites, but storylines and twists are easier for me to write.”

“We want you to write all our stories…” one of my inner demons belted out. 

“Then stop criticizing me and help me break my writer’s block and be more creatively productive!” I growled back.

“Look, I need to get ready for writing camp, so inspire me or punish me now.” I was losing patience as I could the clicking of a clock in my head. I knew I needed to finish packing for camp. 

“My judgment is… You need to work on your sci-fi and fantasy spin, work with three new characters and work on things to keep you productive and break your writer’s block….Court is adjourned.” As she snapped her gavel, I reappeared in my bedroom as the bus was driving away…

Poem Day 11: List Style

I wish for so many things.

  • To write everyday
  • Dance
  • And sing

I have bigger wishes too

  • To win the lottery
  • Book deal
  • To get house painted blue

I have wishes for others

  • To find happiness
  • And love
  • And not see color

I hope some day the world can see

  • My books on the store shelf
  • Family take care of
  • And everyone happy

Be Careful What You Wish For Part 2

Be careful what you wish for part 2. . .

From https://rqshortstories.wordpress.com/2020/01/22/be-careful-what-you-wish-for/

Rebekah Quinne © 2020

 

They snuggled on the couch as Melody had the numbers in her hand. The man announced the numbers on the screen. . .  Jack didn’t feel nervous, but confident, but he just thought that it was due to the that he was with Melody.

“The first number is one. . .” The man announce. She had a slight shiver; he held her tight and smiled.

“The second number is nine.” She looked down at the ticket and back at the TV, so far they had two out of two.

“The third number is nineteen.” She started to shake.

“I think three numbers in a row is ten dollars.” She squeaked.

“What are the other numbers?” he asked as the man also mentioned the numbers twenty and ten. They were freaking out as five out of five basic numbers is twenty thousand dollars. They almost did not hear the bonus ball. . .

“And the bonus ball is two, If you didn’t win, then you can try again next week.” The two ignore them as they jumping up and down . . . they had just won the jack-pot of six point five million. Jack kisses Melody deeply.

“Damn.” She was breathless.

“I have to get home and tell my family, but you now have your private place to study.” He told her.

“You mean our private place.” She smiled.

“Our private place.” He smiled loving the sound of the words coming from his lips. He kissed her hard again and exited. . .

He raced over trying to catch his breath. His mother and step-father Mitch were putting a puzzle together and his uncle Fred was watching a game show.

“I’m glad you’re sitting down.” He was panting barely getting the words out.

“Jack, breathe, baby.” His mother said as he took a deep breath, whizzing.

“I. . . I. .”

“Well, spit it out, boy.” His uncle Fred blurted out.

“I won the jack-pot on the State lottery.” He was stuttering in his own excited and slightly disbelief.

“Are you joshing me, boy?” His uncle Fred was in disbelief. Jack got out his phone brought up the numbers and his ticket and showed them. They all jumped up in excitement. He made sure his uncle had his meds for his heart; he didn’t want the excitement to give him a heart attack.

They didn’t sleep well that night, nervous over having the lottery ticket worth so much. They all day-dreamed over what they would do to spend it. Jack wanted places set for everyone . . . properties next to each other, but they still had room for their own privacy. Melody can stay with him. His mother and step-father wanted to travel for a while. Uncle Fred wanted to have his own maid, even though Jack did most of his errands and chores. However Uncle Fred wanted the maid to be attractive and to also be attracted to him and do naughty things as well a compliment him daily feeding his stomach and ego. Again it was all a fantasy, day-dreaming was always free, and harmless for the most part.

 

Jack had won with another person, so after the split, he got more than enough for traveling, houses, and a maid. She was nice looking, but she didn’t feed Uncle Fred’s ego like he wanted. However she did respect him and call him Sir.

Melody moved in as she paid off several months of her apartment giving her roommates to get someone new or move out. They had a lease for over a year.

At first everything seem good, too good . . . it was blissful. He loved her giggle, but he noticed that his family was over his house more than her own and it distracted her. She would leave and be gone for eight or longer just to “study for an exam.” He had spoiled. If she wanted something from jewelry to a certain type of bed or couch, and she got it. His family started to notice that all of his stuff was in the basement, while she had the rest of the house. However she was rarely in it. He even got her a brand new car.

They had fight over where she was going. She claimed it was the library, but she always got home way pass after the library had closed.

“Where are you going? You are never home?” Jack huffed missing her.

“I have been at the library, I have to study for my exams to get in my clinicals.” She argued.

“The library closes at eight, but there are nights when you don’t get home until ten even midnight.”  Jack was concerned.

“I’m a grown woman and you don’t own me.” She growled.

“I had your office sound proofed, so you can study here.” He added in a lower sadden tone.

“Baby, I just need to get out.” She didn’t tell him the truth.  She failed her exams and was working for a friend of hers at local bar. Actually the friend was an ex, who broke up with her, and she still had feelings for.

Thinking it would get to her heart:
“What if I join you into my account and make it our account?” He started to breath heavier when he heard the words. He thought she would get all excited. She kissed him lightly and said:
“Thank you, dear. I’m going to bed, are you coming?” She smiled. He noticed that she tasted of alcohol. They physically made up that night. He just felt something was wrong.

The next day they made his account a joint account, now she had access to his account.

It was a few months down the road and she had lied claiming she got in the clinicals. She used to clinicals as excuse to get out of the house.

He went to finally get a diamond ring and pop the question. He went to the jewelry store to buy a ring. After several hours of looking over and over. . . didn’t rings and diamond styles. He finally got a princess cut with two leaves on each side of the pink diamond. He wanted special, unique: she made him so happy. He would trade all the money in the world to be with her. . .

“I’m sorry Sir, but you’re card is declined.” The cashier was serious.

“There must be a mistake.” He sighed. . .  they tried it three times. He asked to hold the ring. . .

“Sir, we can only hold the ring for a week to get a down payment.” He understood and was completely embarrassed.

He rushed to the bank to see that there was just fifty-two dollars and eighteen cents. He had thousands just a few weeks ago when he last checked. He asked for the last ten transactions. She had taken out several thousand clothes shopping at an adult store. Then she taken out over twenty-thousand for a what is marked a business trans action.

He waited up that night for her to get home. . .

She was tipsy and frisky. She kissed him wanting to play; she did not notice that he was serious.

“Babe, we need to talk.” He pulled her back fighting himself as he loved her frisky side.

“What is wrong now? Your mom hate my hair. Your uncle wants to pinch my ass. You’re step dad doesn’t like that I work on Sunday.” She asked. . .

“Work? Where do you work?” He was confused.

“I work at Bradley’s bar, you know that.” She could feel her head spinning.

“No, you said you were doing clincials.” He huffed.

“I failed clinicals, and if you weren’t so much into your family, and simply asked me you would have know.” She tried to push the blame on him.

“What did you do with the money in the bank?” He didn’t call the money his or their money. . . just the money. It was meant to pay for the bills.

“I held out Bradley with his bar this month. There are three new bars that have opened, his sales have gone down.” She blurted out hoping it would make her sound good.

“What about the lingerie?” He asked as he had never seen anything she purchased from that naughty-nighty store.

“Are you spying on me?” She tried to accuse him of something to pass the blame.

“No, I needed the money to find it gone.” He still wanted to know who saw the naughty-nighties.

“I can’t be here and accused of this crap. . .” She huffed. . .

“Just tell me the damn truth.” He sighed in a bitter desperation.

“I am in love with someone else. I have been working at bar for almost a year now, and I know your family does not like me. I am out of here.” She blurted it all out, got up and fell dizzy.

“Sleep it off in the bed, and I will take the couch.” Jack was still that nice although his heart was broken. He wanted to tell her to leave and never come back, but he knew if he did, she would take his heart with her. He helped her into bed, kissed the top of her head, as she passed out as soon as she hit the pillow.
He laid on the couch and cried himself to sleep.

 

The next morning he got up to find a majority of her clothes gone with a note on the kitchen counter next to his favorite mug that she bought him World’s Greatest Boyfriend.  He sighed looking at the mug. He made coffee as he read the note.

Dear Jack,

I’m sorry, but I could not love you the way you loved me. My heart belonged to someone else. I have to be with them. You are a great guy. I never deserved you. You deserve to find a great gal, someone you get along with your family. Have a great life.

 

                                                                                                         Sincerely

                                                                                                         Melody

P.S. You will get the money back as soon as Bradley bar gets profit again, I promise.

He frowned as the only promise she ever made to him was about money. He wanted love not money and yet he was broken-hearted and broke in the bank.

He simply thought of the words. . . “Be careful what you wish.”

The Vow

Life is hard.

With you, I feel strong enough to take it on.

I truly do not feel alone.

I want to go through life with you.

I am willing to laugh, cry, and fight with you.

As you are worth every moment I have fought and cried for.

I am your friend, nurse, warrior, and anything else you need to be.

You are in my mind, soul, and heart.

I promise I will never leave you.

Just please promise to do the same with me.

Alive, again.

I was dead

Or at least gone to the world

Stuck in a pit of my depression,

Slipping into the abyss of my worst self

I never felt I would ever be desired

Two years of my life wasted

Stuck into room away from world

Fearful that life had forgotten about me

And worst of all, I let it happen.

Until I saw the angel

Who pulled me out

Of my own troublesome way

They believed in me

When I saw no hope

They waited for me

Inspire of the time that elapsed

They still listened

To my words

They played along

And I just now knew.

I’m grateful that my eyes are open.

This angel let me live again.

Thank you.

So slow

I’m an idiot.

That makes me laugh.

I had

  • Hope
  • Lust
  • Like
  • Desire
  • Trust
  • Adventure
  • Intelligence
  • Beauty

In front of me

In form of a human

In many magical forms

They were special. They are special.

They believed in me

And saw so much in beauty in me

When I was invisible to myself.

I could have had them

So much sooner

But I was so damn slow.

Desired Comfort

Its simple: her and him, delicious snack, a comfy couch, and an entertaining movie.

He turns on the surround sound, while she gets their drinks.

She sets up the snacks: a mixture of sweet and savory.

He sets up the movie. She got to pick the movie: a romantic comedy: a sweet story with a decent ending but at least they both get to laugh.

They finally sit down once she is in his arms everything was just right.

They laughed, cuddled, snacked, and even kissed. She felt secure, sweet, and comfortable in his arms and with his lips.

They wished the blissful, comfortable moment to never end.

Who I am?

Who am I?
I ask myself that
every now and then
Simply to review.

Who were you then?
I was friendly and yet very naive.
I could easily be friends with anyone
until I got scammed
(I’ve had to change bank accounts),
Been catfished
and stalked
(I’ve had to change e-mails).
I was used, abused, and cheated on.
All I ever wanted was loyal friends
who supported me how I supported them
However I have learned I have to be careful who to trust.

Because I was so open back then,
I have so many walls now
so I do NOT get hurt!
It’s lonely in these walls,
but what is worst to be the loneliness
or the heartache, betrayal and pain?

What is you that has always been here.
I am loyal, honest, and determined.
Those pieces of me have always been the same. . .
I have gotten stronger,
and those pieces have gotten more mature and stronger,
but they have always been there.

I want to be happy
Happiness to me is. . .
creating my worlds through my writing. (It’s my bliss.)
Playing with cats that purr and cuddle
Cook and bake food that every devours and enjoys.

I used to live in auto-pilot (robot mode). . .
However currently I am so emotional
that I cannot live in robot mode even if I wanted to.

I used to be so social: I never gave it a second thought
Now. . . is another story
People make too anxious anymore.
A million thoughts fill my mind.
I feel that they are judging me
I am horrible and always wrong
Its hard to breathe. I gasps for life.
I think for a millisecond that I might die.
My depression has me stuck.
So many things I have never done.
I am angry at the littlest things.
I’m flustered I cannot listen to anyone including myself
and auto-pilot cannot handle the wild controls once they are turned on.
Sigh.

I am a lonely Grizzly Bear in a cave all alone
I want to have friends but all I do is snarl and growl
I feel like ever time I’m honest with people
I get called negative or unfriendly.
I really just hide in my world, but this loneliness it killing me.

I still have hope
I hope for a better place with tub and kitchen
I hope for a new feline friend
I hope for more human friends
I hope for writing, happiness, and trust
I hope to be a better person

 

Open my Eyes

It was a simple request to talk

60 minutes

It had more impact on me

Than several hours

Of my previous therapy

By clueless therapists

Trying to pull a twisted emotion

From a past trauma

In a robotic mode of me!

However she simply got through the wall of sadness and worry

By one question. . .

“Will it make you happy?”

The answer is no.

Then why are you toiling yourself over it?

Is it really that simple?

Happiness?

It does not matter about the anxiety

Or the depression

All that matters is happiness.

What makes you happy?

It is just that simple.

Go after what makes you happy!