It took them several hours to get the tent erected.
They had no idea what to do with the poles, or how to secure the guy lines.
The whole thing was a mess, and they would’ve been better off just sleeping in the car.
But eventually, after a lot of swearing, and cuts and bruises, they managed to assemble something that looked like it would still be standing in the morning.
And that’s when we crept in.
Each of us with our proboscis ready for action, knowing they had no mosquito repellent.
She felt their eyes on her. Every night was the same but attention was what she craved. She wanted them to watch the arch of her body, to watch her sinuous moves. The two men gripped her powerfully, holding her steady. She trusted both, loved them in different ways. She looked into her husband’s eyes. Did he know? He seemed the same, maintaining a steady rhythm even as the other man held her. She let go, heart in her mouth. As she fell, her scorned husband stared impassively. High in the big top, her lover screamed, helpless on his trapeze. (100 words)
He stretched his long legs tentatively in the flimsy chair, which creaked in an uncertain whine. The President was weary of the journey to this awful battlefield, weary of the deaths from this demonic war rooted in swirling and numerous hatreds. The stuffy tent would not deter his devotion to saving the Union. He never waivered in this commitment. The papers he withdrew from the inside of his tall brownish-black stovepipe hat contained words that would become immortal. As he emerged from this diminutive tent, guards escorted him to the small stage about twenty paces off to the left.
Thank you Daniel! I’ve never seen it but you’ve just unlocked a very forgotten memory where my cousin explained to me what was going on in that movie 😂
A wonderful day was spent at our campsite engaged in our usual activities: swimming nude; eating; drinking wine as the sun dipped down beneath the treed rocks; lying down on hard warm ground to view the stars, and then finally g ready to go to our tents. My tent mate and I are tucked into our sleeping bags. All is quiet. Then in a whispered voice she says, “Don’t scream but there is a mouse in our tent”.
My scream woke up the guys in their tent and one of them brings in a sauce pan and lid. The mouse is captured and delivered back into the wilds. Now I always ensure the zipper on the tent is closed
The canvas tent rose with two poles and a rope of hope that when pegged around the edges that it would not fall down. The Boy Scouts tried to earn a merit badge constructing a secure place from the elements. A fine job , they slapped each other on the backside and crawled inside. Took a pocket knife out and hidden from the scout master cut a slash in their fingers to press against each other to become blood brothers and keep secret tales told under the secret screen late at night.
It was to be Chad’s pinnacle as developer. Antietam Towers. Built on land acquired on the cheap. Rumored to be a portion of a field of valor, a corner reserved for hundreds of General Lee’s valiant war dead. When the night foreman first called Chad about strange noises during construction, pounding hooves, anguished Rebel Yells amid the bugles, Chad chalked it up to liquor talking. But when Chad arrived onsite the next morning, he knew construction would be delayed. As far as the eye could see, spectral bodies danced and swirled among endless rows and rows of mournful Confederate tents.
PROMPT: TENT
THE TENT
It took them several hours to get the tent erected.
They had no idea what to do with the poles, or how to secure the guy lines.
The whole thing was a mess, and they would’ve been better off just sleeping in the car.
But eventually, after a lot of swearing, and cuts and bruises, they managed to assemble something that looked like it would still be standing in the morning.
And that’s when we crept in.
Each of us with our proboscis ready for action, knowing they had no mosquito repellent.
It was going to be a feast tonight… 😎
Here?
No. Widomaker. Dead branch right overhead.
Okay. How about by the shelter?
And grind our teeth listening to snores all night?
We need to get the rain fly up. It’s gonna piss.
How about in that sandy spot?
No. Chiggers. Remember last time?
Ugh. I don’t need to remember. I still have spots.
Voila! A beautiful soft patch of grass.
Great. Hand me a stake.
I hate when you step on it like that. You’ll bend it.
Just hurry, I felt a drop!
Oh god, you smell that?
Crap, we’re right next to a cat hole.
Son of a—
She felt their eyes on her. Every night was the same but attention was what she craved. She wanted them to watch the arch of her body, to watch her sinuous moves. The two men gripped her powerfully, holding her steady. She trusted both, loved them in different ways. She looked into her husband’s eyes. Did he know? He seemed the same, maintaining a steady rhythm even as the other man held her. She let go, heart in her mouth. As she fell, her scorned husband stared impassively. High in the big top, her lover screamed, helpless on his trapeze. (100 words)
https://open.substack.com/pub/loganthelobotomizer/p/scorps-tent?r=1p2eyi&utm_medium=ios
He stretched his long legs tentatively in the flimsy chair, which creaked in an uncertain whine. The President was weary of the journey to this awful battlefield, weary of the deaths from this demonic war rooted in swirling and numerous hatreds. The stuffy tent would not deter his devotion to saving the Union. He never waivered in this commitment. The papers he withdrew from the inside of his tall brownish-black stovepipe hat contained words that would become immortal. As he emerged from this diminutive tent, guards escorted him to the small stage about twenty paces off to the left.
whoa! that ending!
😁
Great one, Miguel 👍🏼
Reminds me of the start of Dog Soldiers, a hugely underrated werewolf movie 👍🏼
Thank you Daniel! I’ve never seen it but you’ve just unlocked a very forgotten memory where my cousin explained to me what was going on in that movie 😂
A wonderful day was spent at our campsite engaged in our usual activities: swimming nude; eating; drinking wine as the sun dipped down beneath the treed rocks; lying down on hard warm ground to view the stars, and then finally g ready to go to our tents. My tent mate and I are tucked into our sleeping bags. All is quiet. Then in a whispered voice she says, “Don’t scream but there is a mouse in our tent”.
My scream woke up the guys in their tent and one of them brings in a sauce pan and lid. The mouse is captured and delivered back into the wilds. Now I always ensure the zipper on the tent is closed
Thank you for joining in Elizabeth!
Thank you for this creative opportunity!
The canvas tent rose with two poles and a rope of hope that when pegged around the edges that it would not fall down. The Boy Scouts tried to earn a merit badge constructing a secure place from the elements. A fine job , they slapped each other on the backside and crawled inside. Took a pocket knife out and hidden from the scout master cut a slash in their fingers to press against each other to become blood brothers and keep secret tales told under the secret screen late at night.
I love this one! Chilling!
Thank you 🙏
It was to be Chad’s pinnacle as developer. Antietam Towers. Built on land acquired on the cheap. Rumored to be a portion of a field of valor, a corner reserved for hundreds of General Lee’s valiant war dead. When the night foreman first called Chad about strange noises during construction, pounding hooves, anguished Rebel Yells amid the bugles, Chad chalked it up to liquor talking. But when Chad arrived onsite the next morning, he knew construction would be delayed. As far as the eye could see, spectral bodies danced and swirled among endless rows and rows of mournful Confederate tents.
Tent. Shelter against life's storms—like her kindness. Love?
A tent, not meant to last. Idea tented in his mind—temporary, fleeting.
Café as a tent for dreamers—ideas converge, percolate. Uncertainty pitches tents there.
Refuge, escape—books are my tent. Boundaries around a heart—pitched, protected.
Flexibility—tent your expectations. Festival tent cities—fleeting universes.
Happiness like a tent—ready to collapse.
[Crossed out: Too literal—think more metaphorically? Or is that too much?]
State of mind—tent, fragile, temporary. Yes, that works.
Canvas thoughts, staked to earth, swaying in the breeze of imagination. Impermanent, yet home.
Telling myself to breathe 😬
Nice build up … glad we have no camping planned.