Normanday #67: Finders keepers, losers weepers.
Write for three minutes about…
…something you lost or something you found.
Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day March 17 (put “Norman Can Whistle While Eating Crackers” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.
Here is the single entry from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…
…a family vacation.
Tren Rewy Steb
We were staying in a cabin by a lake. We’d take little day trips sometimes. One of the trips was to a cemetery. We had to drive up a hill on a long dry dirt road to get to it. There was nothing else nearby. A bright white picket fence enclosed the little cemetery. I saw all those old tombstones and decided to stay in the car. I watched my family walk from stone to stone, reading the names and dates. They seemed far away. I heard sounds. Sounds that anywhere else would be normal. That constant summer insect buzz. The cooling engine popping. The movement of my leg making the vinyl seat creak. Here, alone in the car parked at the top of a county road next to a cemetery in the middle of nowhere, they were the sounds of the dead. I held still, hoping they wouldn’t notice me, convinced if they did they’d get in the car and hitch a ride back to the cabin by a lake.