ABOUT THE SERIES: The “Let’s Write A Story” series unites writers from across the Rio Grande Valley in presenting a continuing story, told through the perspective the various authors in their own genre. Eighteen chapters will be presented in the Sunday and Wednesday editions in The Monitor’s Vida section. Each writer, in alphabetical order, is allowed 500 to 1,000 words. Chapters must be turned in within two days after the previous one is published. They must connect with the previous story in an easy flow and be suitable for newspaper publication. The project is the brainchild of Roda Grubb of Roda’s Writing Emporium and is presented by RGV Writers’ Connection.
Tag: Let’s Write a Story!
PART 16 “DE JA VU” | BY MADHAVI REDDY Mary rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of recent events: the freak fatal accident involving Sylvia, followed by the mystery of the Golden Sassafras, Michael, Forest, the nefarious scheme she witnessed at Cine El Rey, the Old Man, and the intriguing nature spirits. Overwhelmed, she had returned home after extracting a promise from Twix and Forest to come to her rescue whenever she needed them. “Maybe I can somehow save Sylvia, or perhaps the whole world, from COVID19, if I can just clear my head,” she thought. “I need a good night’s rest and someone I trust to talk to about all this.” She knew who that person was—Twix had reminded her with the question, “Do you have a boyfriend?” Read the full story at themonitor.com
PART 15: “THE CHAOTIC ADDITION” | BY SARA NEAL As Henry led the way to the small house, Mary looked around to see a few people performing their everyday tasks. At first glance everything looked so beautiful and serene, but something felt wrong. Mary knew she shouldn’t judge, but she hoped this dark feeling was new to them as well. She couldn’t imagine a place like this, which seemed to be right out of a fairytale, make you feel you were in a dark empty pit. Aronia noticed Mary’s frown and guessed the reason behind her sudden emotional shift. “It’s sad what this virus is doing to the emotional environment of the world,” Aronia directed toward Mary. Mary gave Aronia a look that read, “ Tell me more.” Read the full story at themonitor.com
PART 14: “FAR FROM THE MADDENING LOCKDOWN” | BY Melitón Moya Two humans and two sprites stood looking at each other in the yoga studio at the back of Gizmo’s, the small family-owned café Mary enjoyed visiting. Aronia was quick to ask, “Who’s this handsome man, Mary?” “Forest Wang. He’s Mrs. Vargas’s son-in-law." Read the full story at themonitor.com
PART 13: “SLOW DOWN AND BREATHE” | BY JEANA MARTIN Mary’s heart began to race as they got farther from the theater and she found it difficult to catch her breath. She recognized the sign and knew she had to calm herself. Passing Forest, she walked to the end of the block, rounded the corner and saw where she once spent a lot of time in a small café nearby. “Mary, slow down!” Forest implored. Even though he was taller, he struggled to keep up. “Where are we going? We have to go back to your time!” Read the full story at themonitor.com
PART 12: “THE PLAN” | BY J.T. LOZANO The flashing lights subsided as quickly as they began, and Forest pushed the door open. He stepped through and looked back at Mary who was uncertain of what to expect on the other side. Cautiously her head poked out, followed slowly by the rest of her body. Mary’s eyes scanned the room as she exited what she believed was her closet. “This isn’t my house,” she muttered to herself. Read the full story at themonitor.com
PART 11: “FACE PASKS?! WHERE WE’RE GOING, WE DON’T NEED FACE MASKS!” | BY OSKAR LAM Recognizing the sound was from the guest room above, Mary stormed to it. Her motherused to stay there when she visited and Mary hadn’t been in there in a while. Even looking at the door caused her phantom pains, and she tried to avoid it. Carefully approaching the door, she tightened her hold on the metal bat she picked up by the stairs. As Mary reached for the doorknob she was struck by a brief flashback. She saw her smiling mother siting on the edge of the bed, the golden-hour sun shining behind her, gilding two porcelain angels sitting on the dresser. When she opened the door she was jolted by the irony to find the same angels shattered on the floor. A chill ran down her back as she heard the water running from the guest restroom. Read the full story at themonitor.com
PART 10: “LONG ARM OF GOLDEN SASSAFRAS” | BY BRENDA LEE HUERTA Mary’s smile was as wide as Texas as she approached them. Her heart was super light after her “meeting” with Henry and Aronia. “Thank you for waiting. I’m so sorry. It’s just that I feel uncomfortable with company and not wearing a mask or gloves. My house was a mess. This COVID19 has turned my worldupside down. I’m so sorry, here I am babbling away!” Read the full story at themonitor.com
PART NINE: “THE WORLD’S A SMALLER PLACE” | BY RODA HILENSKI GRUBB In one quick motion Mary jumped to grab the door, pushing Michael back onto the front porch. “I’m so sorry!” She donned her brightest smile. “I just got home and was headed for the shower. Really, Mrs Vargas, you do need to call and let me know when you’re coming over.” “Sorry, dear, I was so excited to have you meet Michael. He told me he was anxious to meet you after I told him how kind you’ve been.” She looked deflated. Read the full story at themonitor.com
PART EIGHT: “THE GOLDEN SASSAFRAS” | BY CHERI DE LIS The door closed behind her. Mary wished it separated her from the nightmare of the past 48 hours. Now it was here, the dreaded return to the room where Sylvia’s blood silently screamed up at her from the stained tiles. Read the full story at themonitor.com
PART SEVEN: "A Part Too Cruel" | by Dora Gonzalez Mary stared at the corner of the picture table, blood clinging to its sharp, broken edge, dripping to the floor with a mind of its own. Her eyes moved to her friend’s unmoving form still cradled in her arms and panic spread through her ten-fold. Her mind questioned over and over ... What do I do now? Mary glanced at her friend’s unmoving eyes and forced herself to feel for a pulse. She simply wouldn’t accept Sylvia could be dead. Her hand was shaking so hard she barely managed to press two fingers against the side of Sylvia’s neck. She gasped. Was there a pulse? Maybe her friend was not dead, just unconscious. Yes, that was it. That had to be it. Read the full story at themonitor.com
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