The Mysterious Solution - Part 2

Good morning FFFs!

It rained almost all day and was as dark as early morning or late evening almost all day. This morning the sun is coming up in a sky washed clear of storm clouds. the earth is wet from the showers, but the air is cool. We have the windows open now. I can hear a few cicadas and early birds. It looks like a beautiful morning. It's supposed to be hot later today so we'll enjoy the cool weather while we can.

How was your week? Mine was one of those weeks where you play "catch-up" all week. At least that's what it's felt like. I did teach on Tuesday, but 4 of my students weren't here, so that made the day a little shorter in the teaching realm. I've been trying to work on the FFF party, another book of family letters, prepare for more writing classes, write, get my September cover ready for the story, and get settled into this computer. I still don't have all my files on here, but I'm getting them added slowly as I need them. And I'm not putting on files that I don't use or need right now.

A few changes are taking place. One is the change of CreateSpace to KDP. I'm still unsure about this move. Part of the trouble right now for me is that I am planning on getting a few new things published soon, but I don't want to have proof copies on CS when the move comes. So I'm waiting to hear back from them. If the change isn't going to be until almost the new year, then I'm fine. If it's going to be in a few weeks, I'll wait. I'm just afraid it'll be happening right when I don't want it to. :P

The other change is going to be fun, exciting, and quite interesting, I'm sure. If you've been reading this blog for long, you'll know that my dad and I have participated in the Citizens' Police Academy, the Citizens' METZ Academy, and the Sheriff's Citizens' Academy. All three times were very interesting, and I learned a lot. Well, not too long ago my dad learned about a new program. It's kind of the same thing as the others, only this is the Highway Patrol! We just found out yesterday that we were in. Classes start next Thursday and last for 5 weeks. I'm hoping to get reports written after each class, but we'll see how things go. Would you be interested in reading my reports for the classes?

Well, here's the second half of this story. I hope you enjoy it. Perhaps it will even make you cry. :)

The Mysterious Solution

Part 2

Last week . . .

It wasn’t until late the next night that the professor again opened the door to his laboratory and entered. This time he wore no glasses.
Some time later, with tears streaming down his cheeks, he descended the stairs. “It works!” he cried. “Now to become famous! And then--” He was so excited that, even though it was nearly the middle of the night, he flung wide his front door and shouted, “Hear all you good people! I, Professor Stovkewetsky, your fellow townsman am about to be known all over the world! And you, my fine friends and neighbors shall all share in my glory!”
Before he had finished this joyful burst of news, windows had been flung wide up and down the street. There were murmuring voices heard, but the professor couldn’t tell what was being said. He naturally assumed it was congratulations and good wishes, so with a final shout he returned to his own house.

Very busy were the next few days for Professor Stovkewetsky. He carefully prepared the last of his new novel and dipped dozens and dozens of sheets of paper in his new mysterious solution and hung them up to dry.
At last the day came when Prof Stovkey loaded his old truck with boxes and drove off to the printer leaving the townsfolk shaking their heads.
“Oh, the poor man,” said one woman to her neighbor, “he is gone insane.”
“He has indeed. Imagine waking the whole town up in the middle of the night to say that he would be famous.”
“Yes,” added a third person with a shake of the head, “and now driving off with that load in his truck. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never made it back.”
“It is a pity,” yet another woman put in, “and he used to teach in the university too.”
“I suspect too much learning has driven him crazy.”

In spite of the dire predictions, Professor Stovkewetsky did make it back to the village two days later with a beaming face; he appeared in the market place the following day with a box of books.
“Come and buy my newest book,” he urged. “I guarantee it will make you cry. If it does not, your money will be given back to you. Now wouldn’t you like to try the story? It will be the most touching thing you have ever read.”
Many were the skeptical looks the professor and his books received, but a few persons, more out of pity than a desire to read what the professor had written, bought some books and the professor was satisfied. For several days Prof Stovkey sold his books in the village market, eagerly asking those who had purchased the book earlier if they had read it yet. No one had.
It wasn’t until fully two weeks and three days after he sold his first book that a villager came up to him in the market.
“I don’t know how you did it, Professor Stovkewetsky,” the man said shaking his head in wonder, “I never cry when I read books, but yours certainly made me cry. Why, I could hardly see the words for my tears.”
“Ah, I’m delighted you enjoyed it,” replied the professor in great satisfaction, rubbing his hands together. “I knew it would be a success.” He added as the reader of his book turned away, “Soon I’ll be able to hire a cook!” and he laughed gleefully in delight.
A crowd gathered around the village man who had read the book. “What was it like?”
“Did you really cry as he said you would?”
The man nodded. “I did cry, but why I don’t know. It is perplexing. When I think back on the story, I remember nothing that would make me cry, yet when I read the book, I couldn’t keep the tears away.”
“Ah, mysterious!”
“I must get one and try it.”
It wasn’t long before word of his touching novel spread throughout the village, and even those of the surrounding towns and cities began to come to buy this much talked of book. Soon the fame of it reached beyond Russia and Professor Stovkewetsky was kept busy preparing his special mixture, dipping and drying his papers, and taking truck load after truck load to the printer.
It was a joyful day for him when at last a cook was established in his kitchen. Many were the delightful meals that cook stirred up which were neither raw nor burned, and for many years Professor Stovkewetsky lived in great comfort from the sales of his last novel. Many a newsman came to interview the now famous author about his success, but Professor Stovkewetsky never would reveal his secret to them.
And the folks in the village marveled at the professor’s success and puzzled over the strange books, for when it was read aloud only the reader would cry while the others just looked on with dry eyes. It was certainly very mysterious.
It was only many years later that he told his cook what he had done. “You see,” he began, “I created this odorless mixture with which I saturate my pages. When those pages are before you, the undetected essence in them creates the need fro tears. Then the moving places in my book are printed on the special paper and my readers cry whether they want to or not. It has proved very effective.” He smiled. “And it has given me enough money to have a cook.” He sighed deeply and raised a large forkful of pie to his lips.
And so, Professor Stovkewetsky lived the remainder of his life eating food that was neither raw nor burnt and spending his days mixing his tear-jerking invention, dipping his papers and printing his novel. He never wrote another story. And people still puzzle over their tears, but only Professor Stovkewetsky and his cook know the mysterious solution.

Did you cry?

Have you ever attended a Citizens' Academy?

Are you ready for September to come?

The Mysterious Solution - Part 1

Boo!

Did any of you even notice that today's post is not coming around 7:30 in the morning? You probably didn't even think about the fact that this is later than usual. Well, it is.

I'm on Vacation!!!!

This week I'm at my grandparents and all those projects I brought along to work on? Yeah, the ones that are still sitting in my bag. I haven't touched them. I wasn't planning to be this much on vacation, but when I was just exhausted and feeling emotional Sunday night, I knew I needed a break. There's been a lot of stress, craziness, and busyness the past few months. So on Monday I didn't do anything productive! I did check my emails a few times. It was wonderful! I did it again on Tuesday, and Wednesday, and . . . Well, you get the idea. It's amazing what a few days of vacation can do. I highly recommend it.

But, lest you think all I've been doing is sitting around doing nothing, here's a quick look at some of the things I've done. And they are not in order by days.

• Worked Sudoku puzzles- Both the Regular and the Extreme
• Bike riding to breakfast with my grandpa. We came home in the rain. :)
• Walking almost every morning with my sister
• Bringing up an old chair from the basement that my grandparents are getting rid of
• Watching Little League World Series games
• Finishing a "Sticker-by-Number" calendar for my aunt
• Working jigsaw puzzles
• Seeing an owl and a fox (Hey, this is the city folks, we don't see those things usually.)

What have you all been up to this week? Has school started in your neck of the woods?

This story is one I wrote a number of years ago. A friend told me she wanted a story that made her cry but not because of the usual things. This was my story.

The Mysterious Solution
Part 1

by

Rebekah M.

In a little town in Russia, there lived an odd, and if the reports are to be credited, rather eccentric man. For many years he had been a professor in a nearby university and had written and published many a novel, none of which had sold more than a hundred copies. However, it was not his writing which caused the whispers among the village folks, it was the strange rumors going around about his experiments.
Some people said he locked himself in his house for days at a time and wouldn’t answer the door. Others reported lights on in an upper room late into the night. In the market place the women talked together in low tones.
“Have you seen Prof Stovkewetsky?” asked one woman selling vegetables.
“Not for several days,” replied another behind her stand of potatoes.
“He came to my stand last week and bought all my red flowers. He would only take red,” chimed in a third mysteriously.
“And I heard,” a fourth spoke up as she joined the group with her market basket on her arm, “that several large packages have arrived for him from America.”
“You don’t say!”
“I wonder what he is about.”
“Is he writing another novel?” A sixth person, drawn by the low toned conversation had drawn near and added her question.
The second woman replied, “If he is, then why such secrecy and why did he buy all my red flowers?”
“My house is just across the road from his and things have been very mysterious.” And the speaker looked as though she could tell things of great interest if she so chose.

By himself, away from gossiping, wondering, speculating tongues, Professor Stovkewetsky was very busy in his laboratory on the second floor of his house. He was muttering half aloud as he carefully strained a strange looking mixture into a pan and began to heat it on his little stove. “Heat over low temperatures. Add Q plus ten spoonfuls of X. Stir the onions in cold water while the Q and X amalgamates. Cover R3G with . . .” So, muttering and murmuring, he shuffled here and there mixing, heating, stirring.
He had been at work for weeks, months even, trying to find the special formula which would make him world famous. With no one did he share his idea for fear they would find the correct mixture before he did, and if they did, well, his dreams would perish. The very thought of such a thing happening caused Professor Stovkewetsky to sigh and place a hand over his stomach while a look of dejection crept across his usually placid face.
Having retired from teaching, Professor Stovkewetsky or Prof Stofkey as his students called him behind his back, was now able to devote his entire time to his work. Days passed as the professor labored tirelessly day after day and often far into the nights. At last he was ready for the experiment.
Nearly giddy with excitement, Professor Stovkewetsky cleared a place on a table where he placed a large, square, glass dish. Stringing up some twine across the room, and getting a dozen sheets of plain paper out, he was ready. After donning glasses, a clean white frock, a face mask and gloves, he ever so carefully poured a clear mixture into the glass pan. It was only enough to cover the bottom of the dish about a quarter of an inch, but the professor smiled behind his mask. Then, with fingers which shook with excitement, he placed one sheet of paper into the liquid.
Watching the paper as it absorbed the moisture was a fascinating process which required all of Prof Stovkey’s attention. At just the right moment, with extreme care, the paper was removed, held dripping over the pan for exactly thirty seconds and then hung from the twine to dry while another paper was placed in the mixture. Each of the twelve pieces of paper received the same careful attention and treatment.
Taking off his gloves and face mask, though he left his glasses on, Professor Stovkewetsky sniffed.
“I don’t smell a thing. Maybe I have hit on it at last! But I must wait until the paper is dry before I can really test it.” So saying, he left the room, carefully shutting and locking the door behind him, and went downstairs to eat whatever he could find in the house.
He had not been a successful cook in his younger years, so now he ate everything raw or burned. “When I am rich and famous,” he would say to himself, “I’ll hire some good cook to work for me.” And he would sigh and place his hand over his stomach again.
It wasn’t until late the next night that the professor again opened the door to his laboratory and entered. This time he wore no glasses.

Have you read this story before?

What do you think the Professor is up to?

Did you notice that this post was later than usual?

It's Friday?

Good morning FFFs!

It's a rumbling, rainy morning here. It sounds like the perfect weather to curl up with a good book, or just go back to bed. :) But I have things to do. I always seem to have things to do.

This week has been a jumble of trying to get things done and other things.

Writing classes started this week, and I have 9 students in 4 different classes all on Tuesday morning. It was a bit crazy, but things went well.

I also got a new computer! I'm really liking it, except that the CD player won't pull in the disc all the way and play it. I may end up having to send the computer back because I use that player regularly. But I wanted to keep trying it a little longer and see if there is anything else that is a problem. That's one reason I haven't moved all my files over.

The rest of the week have been such a mixture of this and that, writing, editing, getting ready for writing classes, practicing the violin, and being distracted by Little League. Sometimes I felt overwhelmed by everything. I wanted to run away to a cabin and hide. Other times I wanted to get the entire list of things done. I was planning on getting a longer story for you this week, but with everything going on, that didn't happen. So I just picked one. It was one I thought of posting a few weeks ago, but never did.

But if you want something else, my August story, The Way to Go is Free today and tomorrow.

Refreshing

It was quite chilly when I crawled out of my sleeping bag and, unzipping my tent door, stepped out into the crisp morning. Everything was quiet and still. The brown grass at my feet crunched with each
footstep. Stately, old pine trees stood guard on the bit of land which juts out into the aqua and teal lake where scarcely a ripple disturbs its placid face. Across from my camping site, on the other side of the lake, march row upon row of trees, up the mountainside, until the snow-covered cliffs halt most of them.
     I gave a sigh of contentment. This was the first time I had gotten to be alone for more than fifteen minutes since the whirl of things began. I don’t know when the whirl started exactly, it just seemed to creep up and then I was in the midst of it all. Now at last maybe I can get some much needed rest, to try to sort things out, to understand, to consider, to decide. Out here alone I hope to be able to find the peace and joy I had. Alone? No, not really. My Heavenly Father is here and that is all I need. It was His hand that guided through all: weddings and funerals, births and deaths, over-work and no work at all, excitement of courtships and heartache of breakups, tornadoes and earthquakes, political unrest and political victories; all combined to frazzle a mind already bewildered with the many decisions of everyday life.
     I think I’ll just sit here today by my campfire and let the quietude of the mountains and water calm my feelings as I read the dearest book in the world. How can I help but grow refreshed when the Author of each word and thought is my Lover and Friend, my Father, my Savior, my Jesus? If I knew Him not, I would surely be the most miserable of all persons. Some people thought my coming away into this wilderness alone was just a way of trying to escape from everything and hide. They were somewhat right. I am hiding from everything. But not as they think. My Hiding Place is the Rock in a weary land, the Shelter in storms, a Tower, a Shield, a Refuge. No, I don’t expect everything to be perfect when I return, but it will be okay. The sun on those snow covered peaks is glorious!
     The birds are singing above me, and I hear a squirrel chattering somewhere. Maybe I’ll go sit on that rock in the sun. No worries, no cares, no thought for tomorrow. Isn’t that how life is supposed to be? I can echo the psalmist when he penned the words, “Oh that I had wings like a dove, then would I fly away and be at rest.” But it wouldn’t be the same rest which the Shepherd gives to His sheep. On the whole, I am glad, thankful even, that I have a heart which can feel pain and joy, love and sorrow, and my Savior’s matchless, boundless, endless mercy, grace and love!

My days alone here are ended. I’m going back to be ”in the world but not of it.” Peace and rest fill me as I go with my All-In-All.

 

Have you ever felt like you needed to get away from everything?

Have you ever actually gotten away?

What sort of story do you want next week?

What Am I?

Hello, FFFs,

How are you doing? I'm doing well. It's been a busy first part of the week, and then I've been trying to catch up on things, including sleep. ;)

Saturday– My dad, Sis, and I went out to help knock doors all Saturday morning with my brother, his family, and 7 others. It wasn't bad in the morning as there was a nice breeze, but it sure got hot later! We got a lot of doors knocked.

Sunday–A much needed day of rest! Usually I read all afternoon, but I was so tired that I had to take a few cat naps in the middle of my reading.

Monday–I spent the morning and afternoon working on projects. Then after supper I headed out to join my brother in knocking more doors. We worked until after 8:30. Then we met up with some others who were also knocking doors. Then it was time to put up some "Vote Today" signs. I put some up on the way home, but decided to get my dad before I went and put up the last signs at a polling place in a not so nice neighborhood.

Tuesday–Election Day! We started out by sign waving! Finally! A family joined us who had never done it before. The kids loved it! Even when it started raining. We just held umbrellas and our signs and kept on shouting. :D I went with my BF to vote. That was strange since I don't remember the last time when I actually voted on election day. Next my brother dropped two nephews off and the three of us headed to a polling place to hold signs. It rained off and on that morning. Then, after lunch, the sun came out. I now have a nice sunburn. We stayed there until 4:45. That evening we headed to my brother's watch party. It was late before the final results came in. He had lost by 46 votes. It was a bit of a shock at first, but then it really felt like the hand of God. He may have lost, but, as our sheriff told him, "You made a difference in the county. You and your family even if you didn't win." And it's okay. God has something different in store for him.

Wednesday–Trying to catch up on sleep, and different things. That night the church's puppet team (my oldest niece and nephew were a part this time) did their final performance for church, so we all went and watched. They did great!

Thursday–Trying to get more done, things worked on. I actually wrote last evening! I haven't written since the 2nd! You know what? It's rather fun to write. ;)

And that's a look at my week. How was your week?

I was looking through old stories trying to decide what to post when I came across this poem. I decided to share it today instead of a story. Leave a comment to tell me what you think the answer is.

What Am I?
by
Rebekah Morris

I have no wings, but I can fly,
Just close your eyes and I’ll slip by.
I use no fuel and eat no food,
I’m never late for that would be rude.
I never sleep yet am not awake,
And I’m sorry, you can’t toss me in the lake.
For love or money I can’t be bought,
Though more of me many have sought.
I race and I creep, I’m slow and I’m fast,
But I’m always the same as I’ve been in the past.
I’m certain to continue as when I began,
For though I am young, I’m older than man.
I’m tossed aside by the careless, looked down on with contempt,
Yet from my relentlessness no one is exempt.
I have no fear of danger,
To love I am a stranger,
You’ll use me every day until you die,
So tell me please, what am I?

Story-less

Good morning FFFs,

Sorry, I don't have a story for you this time. After finishing the last story, I haven't had time to write a new one, and I haven't gone through my old ones and picked one to republish. But, since it seems that most of you have been busy with other things anyway this summer, you can just catch up on this last story.😃

What have I done this week?

Sunday – It was a wonderful day to relax. It was rainy and cooler. After church we visited some and then came home and ate lunch. I spent my afternoon reading.

Monday–Thursday – It was a stay-at-home week which was wonderful! I didn't have any writing students. (Regular classes will start on the 14th of this month.) We didn't babysit (though we will this evening), and the temperatures have been in the 60s in the mornings so Sis and I have gotten to get out and walk! Lovely! I did work nursery at church Wednesday night, only there were no little ones and the other worker and I ended up sitting in the nursery talking the whole time. And then I practiced music.

But there are other things I've been working on during the days. I finally finished listening to the audio of my book Finding Joy. And Dylan's Story is almost ready for me to proof listen to as well. I'm trying to get my August short story finished so I can publish it. I've finished two chapters of Hymns in the Hills, gotten ideas for some of the other month stories, worked on some Five Fall Favorites planning, scanned pictures of my grandparents in the 1940s, worked on blog posts, and a host of other things. I actually feel like I've been making progress on getting some things done instead of just treading water, or doing enough to keep me going but not really getting anywhere.

Tomorrow is the last Saturday before the elections, so I'll be heading out to knock doors and do some sign waving for my brother. It's supposed to be hot, but maybe the morning will start out nice.

And that's it. I'm hoping to get a lot done today, though I never feel like doing much after I clean the house. Does anyone else ever feel that way? Probably not. Oh, well. Hopefully next week I'll have a story for you all to read. If anyone wants to read one. 😉

Missing: One Junior Ranger - Part 6

Good morning FFFs!

I protest! It can't be the last Friday in July! It just can't be! I know I already reached my 20k word goal for Camp NaNo, and I know that there is only a little over a week of campaigning before the August elections (we'll see if my brother wins!), and I know that I start teaching writing classes again two weeks, but still!

Let's see, we did have a busy week. Not a crazy as other times. This week we had an ice cream social to attend on Monday. (It was a political event and we got to hear many of the people running for office.) It was quite fun and informative. I reached my 20k goal on Wednesday. Yesterday my aunt came down for the day, and all 7 nieces and nephews came over for several hours so their parents could have a real date. That was fun.

Today is just usual stuff like cleaning the house and then trying to feel like I should be productive. For some reason, though I may feel like getting a whole lot done on Friday mornings, by the time the house is clean, I seem to have lost all desire to do anything, and only want to sit and read, or something like that.

Tomorrow I may be out knocking doors again, but there is a chance of rain, so we'll see. And tomorrow evening I'm supposed to join some others from church to play and sing at an assisted living home. That's always fun.

But I have other things I need to do. And I'm sure you came to read the story and not my ramblings. So enjoy this last and final part of:

Missing: One Junior Ranger

Ending

    On and on the group moved, over uneven ground, through brush and briars. For a while the trail was lost in a carpet of pine needles, but it was found again and the rescue party continued on. At last Mike stopped and looked.
    “She spent the night in that tree.” He pointed to a large one.
    “She couldn’t have,” Timmy protested. “I couldn’t even get to those branches.”
    Stepping close to the tree, Sam looked up. “How did she get up there, Mike?”
    Mike pointed to a branch lying on the ground nearby. “I think she used that as a ladder. But she didn’t come down that way. She dropped here. I think she is heading in the direction of the river.”
    A gasp came from the girls. The bank near the river in this part of the forest was steep, and the water was rapid, sweeping everything in it toward one of the falls which, though not high, was dangerous because of its many rocks at the bottom.
    “Stay behind me, but let’s go,” Mike said, starting forward at a rapid pace.
    Nearing the river, they began to call, but no answer came back. Were they too late? Had she fallen into the river? Or was she just too far away?

*

    Moaning, Sharon clutched her ankle. Why, oh why, did she have to trip on that vine and fall? Her face and hands smarted from the scrapes they had received sliding down the river bank. The roar of the waterfall was the only sound she could hear. Rocking back and forth with her injured ankle clasped in her torn hands, she looked around. Her fall had sent her sliding down to a small level bank near the river. Both upstream and down the banks were mere drop-offs. Only this section had eroded, washed down by rains.
    “I don’t know how I’m ever going to get up that slide again,” she thought. The earth and rocks were loose, offering no good foothold even if one of her legs wasn’t injured. “A fine mess I’ve made of things. I’m no good as a ranger. I tried to mark my trail with my knife this morning, but if I had done that yesterday I might not be stuck here right now.” She sighed. Her ankle throbbed, and her face and hands hurt. And she was hungry. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back. She had to figure out a way to let someone know where she was.
    Looking up to the grassy bank above her, she gave a gasp. “Mike!”
    “Are you okay, Sharon?” he shouted down.
    It was hard to hear over the roar of the waterfall, but Sharon caught his words. “My ankle,” she called back, her voice cracking.
    Mike’s face disappeared, and then a moment later Sam’s face appeared with Mike’s. “Mike’s coming down for you, Sharon,” he said, cupping his hands around his mouth.
    Sharon nodded. She was about to be rescued.
    In moments Mike had half slid, half scrambled, down the steep slope to her. “Your ankle is only sprained, I think” he told her after running his hands over it carefully. “Now, if you can get on my back, I’ll carry you up to the top.” This was soon done, and Sharon clung tightly to Mike as he scrambled up the loose soil to the top.
    There, to her great surprise, she found the rest of the Junior Rangers as well as Sam Oleson. Tessie and Angie washed her scratches while Mike and Sam splinted and bound up her ankle.
    “Just in case it is broken instead of sprained,” Sam told her. “Though I’ve never known Mike to make an error like that.”

*

    “What happened to make you leave the path?”
    The Junior Rangers were sitting in the Ranger office with Mike Big Eagle and Sam. Sharon, her injured ankle bandaged and resting on a chair, was the center of attention. Quickly she recounted the story of the little fawn. “Everyone said you shouldn’t let an animal suffer, and the fawn couldn’t get the fishing line off his leg himself. I didn’t dream he would take me so far away. But I did get it off him at last.”
    “What did you do with the line?” Mike asked.
    “I put it all in my pocket.” Shifting in her chair, she shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out the line, the cause of all the trouble. “I tried to follow my tracks back to the trail, but I’m afraid I’m not very good at that yet.”
    Leaning forward in his chair, Sam asked, “Why didn’t you stay in the tree until you were found?”
    “I was going to, until the sun came up. Then I could see a large clearing, and I thought that might be an easier place to find me since I would be out in the open. I just didn’t know the river was in between.”
    “Weren’t you frightened out there at night without a fire or anything?” Tessie asked, her eyes wide.
    Sharon nodded. “Yes, until I remembered the verses Uncle Ken read that morning about not being afraid for the Lord was with me. But I did scream when I heard something move beneath the tree I was in,” she confessed.
    A smile twitched the corners of Mike’s mouth. “It was a deer.”
    Sharon’s hands flew to her mouth, and she gasped. “Oh!” She gave a faint laugh. “I probably frightened it more than it did me.” Then her face grew thoughtful. “You know,” she said slowly, “Uncle Ken read some other verses yesterday morning, and one of them said something about no lion or hungry beast walking there. I thought the noise I heard was a beast out to eat me, but it was only a deer. I think God kept those other animals away last night. And,” she added, smiling as she looked around, “I don’t think I’m ever going to think the Bible is dull again.”

What did you think?

Did you enjoy this story?

Are you ready for July to be over?

Missing: One Junior Ranger - Part 5

Good morning, Friday Fiction Fans,

I don't know about where you live, but here it's hot. And humid. Yesterday it reached 107º. Ugh. Thankfully storm clouds blew in late afternoon and the temperature dropped to the 80s for a while. We didn't get any rain, though there were a few rumbles of thunder.

This has been a good writing week. I decided I wanted to spend one day doing more writing than normal. So, since I usually only write later afternoon and evening, I started in the morning and got over 1k written. In the afternoon I wrote more, and in the evening I wrote again. My total word count for the day was 4,284 words. That bumped me up on my Camp NaNo goal quite a bit. I also wrote on Monday, Wednesday, and yesterday. I think I'll be able to reach my 20k goal and even surpass it.

I've been doing a lot of planning and trying to figure out what I need to work on of all my many different projects. Sometimes I feel rather overwhelmed, but when I break each project into smaller ones, then it's easier. The sad note this week is that I've hardly read anything! I read two shorter stories on Sunday, and a shorter one last night, and that is it. No wonder I want to read!

Anyway, that's that. I don't know if many of you are even reading this since it's summer and most likely you are all busy. Oh, well. I did contemplate just leaving you hanging on this story, but I decided to be nice.

Missing: One Junior Ranger

Part 5

    “She doesn’t know much about the radio. But let’s get out to the fort and check on her. She’s probably waiting for us to return.” Don’s words sent the others hurrying toward the door.
    “Don.”
    Turning back, Don paused behind the others at the door and looked back at his brother’s serious face. “Let me know as soon as you find out if she’s there.”
    With a quick nod and a “Sure thing, Sam,” Don was out the door and running after the Junior Rangers.

    Puffing up to the gate of the fort, the six Junior Rangers paused a moment to catch their breath. The large wooden gate was shut just as they had left it, but that wasn’t unusual. Don was the first to reach the gate, unlatch and swing it wide open. “Sharon?” he shouted.
    There was no answer.
    “All right, everyone split up,” Don ordered. “Look for any sign that she might have been here.” As the others scattered across the yard, Don raced for the stairs that led to their club room in one of the block houses. Pushing the door open he looked around quickly. There was no sign of anyone having been there. “Hey, guys!” he turned to shout. “Sharon’s pack is still here.” Not waiting to see what the others would do, Don hurried to the radio set and turned it on.
    “XNV-451 to XNR-457. Come in. XNV-451 to XNR-457.”
    “XNR-457 to XNV-451. What’s the story Don?”
    “She hasn’t been here, Sam. Her pack’s still in the club house, and there’s no sign of her.”
    Sam didn’t hesitate. “You kids head back over the trail to her house. I’ll get Mike, and we’ll take the truck over the road. If you find any sign of her on the trail, radio us.”
    “Okay, Sam. Over and out.” Flipping off the switch, Don turned around to find the other Junior Rangers crowding around behind him. “You all heard Sam?” They nodded. “Then let’s go find Sharon.”

    The trial was quiet. Each person was intent on looking for signs. Finally, after they had covered quite a bit of ground, Bob spoke. “The way I figure it, if she’d left the trail on this side over here,” and he motioned with his hand, “then she would have found the road.”
    “But she might have gone off on the other side of the trail,” Tessie said.
    “Look!” Don pointed. “Footprints.”
    “Oh, Don, they lead off the trail into the woods.” And Angie crouched down to get a better look.
    For a moment the children stood. “We can follow the trail as far as we can, but we might need Mike.” Don paused. “I wonder if he and Sam are still in the truck.”
    “Want me to radio and find out?” Grant asked, patting the portable set he had been carrying.
    “Yeah. Sam said to let them know.”
    This was done, and Sam promised that he and Mike would be there soon. “Start following the trail, but be careful,” Sam instructed before ending the call.
    Eagerly the Junior Rangers started off into the woods. Since Don was the most experienced tracker, he led the way, and the others followed in silence. Minutes ticked by slowly. Where was Sharon, and why had she left the trail?
    “Don,” Tessie asked at last,” why do you suppose Sharon didn’t stay on the path?”
    “I don’t know. If Mike were here, he could probably tell us.”
    “Here he comes,” Bob said, glancing over his shoulder. Everyone stopped and waited as the Indian and the chief forest ranger reached the group. Mike stepped ahead of Don and crouched down to look at the faint tracks in the ground.
    At last he stood up. “I think she was following something.” Mike started off. Soon he halted. “She has returned but lost the trail and goes off slightly.”
    “She returned from where, Mike?”
    Mike shook his dark head. “That I don’t know. But these tracks are newer.”
    Angie leaned down to look. “How do you know?”
    “They are on top of the other ones.”
    Sam spoke up for the first time. “How new are they?”
    “Some time yesterday, I think.”

Have you ever had to find someone?

How long do you think it'll take them to find Sharon?

Has your summer been really hot?