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Thread: Rebellion of The Thumbtack

  1. #1
    Super Member wordpaintervs's Avatar
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    Rebellion of The Thumbtack

    Rebellion Of The Thumbtack
    © V. Stamps

    The tack was firmly entrenched in the corkboard. While its shiny brass cover looked like new,
    it had been there for a long time. It has grown weary of the everyday existence it knew and
    longed for more interesting things to experience. It had tried hard to loosen the hold the
    corkboard had on it, but its efforts were in vain.

    Even as the tack thought on its desires, a hand came forward and plucked it from the board.
    It was laid aside on a nearby table. Making a gigantic effort to gain its freedom, it rolled off
    the table and almost to the door. It landed in a shadowed spot within the room. Alas freedom
    had been so near and yet so far away. The tack could almost smell the outside air.
    Could it have done so, it would have wept in sorrow at the near escape.

    Apparently the person using the tack had forgotten it and having no longer seen it on the table,
    reached instead for another one. At last the person was finished. Another arrived to pick her up.
    Ah. It was a cowboy. Oh no. the cowboys booted heel came down upon its sharpened end
    trapping it even more firmly than it had been before. At least now it could leave the room where
    it had spent its whole life.

    Of all the luck! The cowboy dropped off his passenger into their home and began late afternoon
    chores. There was something known as dog runs to be hosed down. The dogs seemed so
    fierce to the tiny tack. Their droppings were all over in the run. The tack tried to hold its breath
    against the odor and hoped the cowboy’s steps were careful. Next came the chicken pen.
    The tack would not escape its fate so easily this time.

    The cowboy swept aside the messiness, cleaned off the nests in the roosting area and secured
    its gates for the night. Dusk fell and the thumbtack saw it happening from its view in the heel of
    the cowboys propped up feet, near the window of their comfortable country home. Children
    scrambled onto his lap. Sounds of laughter echoed into the home.

    Early the next day at dawn the cowboy was up and about, coffee cup in hand with thoughts on
    his morning work. There were horse stalls to be mucked out and fresh straw strewn down for
    the floors. Oh the humiliation of it all for the tack. It missed its home with the routines and
    cleanliness as compared to the current situation. The horses got turned out to pasture.
    The sun rose and more business lay in wait.

    The cowboy kissed his sweetheart good-by. He climbed into his old pick-up truck for a trip into
    town. They passed many Evergreens and Redwoods living in the forest lining the long road
    into town. The tack heard from within the forest depth conversations between all that lived within.
    It sensed the inhabitants fright at the sound of the trucks passing. It counted the ‘pot holes’ in
    the dirt road before reaching an asphalted highway. Now it counted the turning of the trucks tires
    until it could no longer keep count.

    On the opposite side of the road stood one of the many homeless. The tack could hear the
    rumbling of that person’s foodless belly. It could feel the chill of the night he’s just spent
    sleeping outside. A backpack, tattered and foul smelling rested upon his back. It held all his
    earthly possessions. His thumb was stuck up in the air in a hitchhikers plea for a ride to yet
    another destination and a renewed hope that something better lay ahead. The tack hoped the
    man would be more successful than he found himself to be.

    Town drew near. Warmth filled the air. The trucks motor roared in happy anticipation at having
    reached town. Its noise reached into the interior of a small town library. It interrupted the parade
    of letters, numbers and words that had fled the books and magazines within. Up and down the
    halls they had marched singularly and in groups. They had been visiting and making
    conversation amongst themselves. They had jumped with joyful energy onto chairs, tables and
    counters. Now, as if the workers had already appeared there to open the doors and get ready for
    the library’s patrons, they scattered away to return to their rightful places in the books, each to
    their assigned place.

    Now the tack could sense the faces, shapes and attitudes of business owners and workers as
    they entered their places of work. Some of it troubled the tack. Some of it made it feel glad.
    It felt such confusion and missed even more its prior home. Now it was inside the post office.
    The cowboy picked up letters and bills and delivered his own outgoing mail. The letters and
    numbers inside the envelopes were numerous in that place. They called out hellos to the tack
    than settled down among their peers. The cowboy completed his errands and returned home.
    The days passed, each much the same as the one before.

    A month had gone by. Again the cowboy dropped off his passenger inside the building where
    once the thumbtack had lived. “Stay a bit sweetheart and visit me while I fix up this bulletin
    board” asked his wife. So he did. Putting a bootleg across his knee where he’d sat on a
    folding chair, the cowboy saw the tack in his boot. He dug out a pocketknife from his jeans
    and gently removed it. Would he throw the badly burnished tack into the trash? The tack
    hoped not. Even now in its disreputable state, it heard its family of tacks calling out
    welcomes to it. It wanted to return to them upon the corkboard.

    The tack wanted that more than anything now. It had learned the value of its home.
    The cowboy wiped at the covering of the tack, brushing it clean against his pants leg.
    Standing up, he placed it into the palm of his wife’s hand. “Here! You might need this.”
    His wife thought the tack seemed to have a character of its own. She gave it a special place
    upon the board. All was well now. The tack was home, hopefully to remain there forever.
    There was no place like home...

    -The end-
    "Greater is He that is in me, then he that is in the world"

    www.dollsforverysickkids.com

  2. #2
    Senior Member
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    Cute story.

  3. #3
    Super Member amyjo's Avatar
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    great story. keep em coming. maybe you should make a collection and get tthem printed in a book.

  4. #4
    Super Member wordpaintervs's Avatar
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    I have a large collection of stories, but was told that 'agents' don't like to put together short stories into a collection as people want to read novels. I've thought of self publication but any half decent package is about 2 to 3,000 dolls for everything, and I definitely can't afford that. I am working on rewrites for 2 kids stories and 1 sceince fiction at this time. I'm am sure glad you like my story above. Thanks for rading it and the reply.

    Vickey Stamps
    "Greater is He that is in me, then he that is in the world"

    www.dollsforverysickkids.com

  5. #5
    Power Poster
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    Interesting travel tale - - -

  6. #6
    Super Member wordpaintervs's Avatar
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    and not a road to be desired, but perhaps one of learning??? ggl. Hope you enjoyed the story. Thanks.
    "Greater is He that is in me, then he that is in the world"

    www.dollsforverysickkids.com

  7. #7
    Super Member Neesie's Avatar
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    I love your stories!
    Neesie


    By all means let's be open-minded, but not so open-minded that our brains drop out.
    ~Richard Dawkins

  8. #8
    Super Member wordpaintervs's Avatar
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    I love your avitar. Wish I had a puppy just like it. No pets anymore. I also really like your quote. I'm glad you like my stories. I have one running around in my head about an envelope. Imagine that. giggling. Don't know if you know it or not, but a friend named Ann maintains a list for those who like to get my stories after she adds graphics and music to the words. Send a pm if you would like to be added for up to date (and sometimes duplicated over the years..) stories. I'll give you my email and you can request to be added. I forward any requests to Ann and she is always happy to add folks. I just lost my brother (72) to his fourth and final bout with cancer. He was my only sibling. They lived in Texas, in New Brunsfel, near San Antonio. Thanks for taking time to write about my story.

    Vickey Stamps

    Quote Originally Posted by Neesie View Post
    I love your stories!
    "Greater is He that is in me, then he that is in the world"

    www.dollsforverysickkids.com

  9. #9
    Super Member sew_Tracy's Avatar
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    What a talented writer Vicky. SO much compassion! I'll bet you see art in everything!
    From the artist formerly known as Missus Fear...Hi, my name is Tracy and I am a hobbyaholic.
    http://www.quiltingboard.com/blogs/m...ear-79671.html

  10. #10
    Super Member wordpaintervs's Avatar
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    Sometimes I get so much in my head, I don't know what to do with it. GIGGLING. Thanks for reading my story and so glad you liked it. Thanks a million.
    "Greater is He that is in me, then he that is in the world"

    www.dollsforverysickkids.com

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