The plume of smoke reminded me of Mount Etna on a windless day when the volcano belched smoke and cinders into the atmosphere. This plume, too, had stood out black against a clear sky. I remember staring as I hailed a cab at the airport, unable to look away; I felt a premonition of doom descend over me like a shroud, but shook it off, … Continue reading Writing Exercise 14, Late For Work
The ability to write with clarity and emotion is one of the greatest blessings in my life. I do not know from whom this gift descends, mom or dad. Dad loved to read, while mom enjoyed crossword puzzles. I love to do both. Dad and mom also enjoyed writing letters to friends and family, the only inexpensive way to keep in touch with folks in … Continue reading 200 Words (or so) Letters From Home
Long before coffee and I discovered a mutual affinity for one another, I took an occasional cup during winter months to warm my hands when working on Navy aircraft in Brunswick, Maine. I wore gloves, the heavy, woolen kind, but some of the more tedious maintenance jobs required bare fingers for intricate work. My fingers froze fast in the sub-zero temperatures, and numbed to the point … Continue reading 200 Words (or so) My Dreadful Habit
I write to keep my sanity, to keep going day to day. It’s like an addiction, but helps to quiet my mind and keep the demons at bay. They love to lurk in the dark corners, waiting to pull me down with them, but the words I type build a wall between them and me. The more words, the stronger the wall. Sure, there are … Continue reading 200 Words (or so) “Why I Write” Guest Post by Anna Dobritt
I count my blessings every day. Blessings like my health, the stability in my life, my loved ones, my friends, my work. I try not to take life for granted. I’m observant of the world about me and cognizant of the God who gave me life, and the capacity to enjoy the plants and animals, forests and seas, and mountains and deserts that make this … Continue reading 200 Words (or so) My World
The morning is beautiful, temperature 73 degrees, a fragrant, refreshing southwest wind ruffles the leaves in the trees surrounding the house, and snaps the flag billowing on the porch. Yoshi, his ears alert, keeps a watchful eye on the jogger passing by. Insects buzz all around, and a crow caws across the street; I hear a cardinal peeping somewhere, and a multitude of other birds … Continue reading 200 Words (or so) Today
The Navy aircraft centered on course, the compass pegged at 040. Jake radioed the airfield, then picked up his coffee. In less than two hours he’d arrive first at the writers’ conference and pick up his check for one-million dollars. Jake’s aircraft had the lead ahead of the others thanks to a powerful tail wind. He sipped his coffee and settled back, autopilot flying the plane. Moments later the … Continue reading Writing Exercise 13, Write Tight
Little Mary Sue sat alone in the cafeteria. She pushed her thick braids back and peered over the rim of her glasses. She spotted Biff as he left with the cheerleaders. She loved him , but he didn’t know she existed. Mary Sue decided it was now or never: she would ask Biff to the girl’s choice dance. She picked up her books and left … Continue reading 200 Words (or so) Little Mary Sue
Why she – my wife – holds me responsible for missing her hair appointment, when the fault is entirely her own for scheduling it so close to my sister’s (who I had not seen since another sister’s funeral in 2012) flight departure time (which, by the way, she knew three weeks ahead of time) is beyond me, and completely unreasonable on her part, as well as … Continue reading Writing Exercise 5, Commas
An orange fireball blots the sky, a mass of white-black cloud shot through with flame. The Navy P-3 Orion yaws as the #3 engine burns and trails an undulating line of black smoke. The starboard wing folds up and shears away; with lift gone the aircraft rolls to starboard. The Orion rolls and rolls, white belly and windscreens alternately reflecting the sun, then tumbles, veering earthward. … Continue reading Lima Charlie 85
Originally posted on The Writings of William C. Pennington:
There are two kinds of dead in war: those who die and those who live. Those who die stay dead; those who live die again and again and again until, someday, they too stay dead. He died in World War II during the Battle of Okinawa, but lived another forty-nine years filled with anger that he… Continue reading Eighteen Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty
Originally posted on The Writings of William C. Pennington:
The tall white mountain beckons. Beckons me across the years to return, calls me to climb again his steep, rocky face by the trail beside the stream. The stream of cold, cold water that rushes down the mountain much faster than I will ascend the mountain, rushes by with a gurgle, a gurgle as if laughing… Continue reading Old Speck
August 8th At sea Dearest Soul, At sea, the horizon remains the same distance away, day after day, neither receding nor advancing. The sun rises every morning in the place I came from yesterday, arcs across the sky, sets every evening in the place I will be tomorrow. It is the second most constant occurrence in my life. My dear, your love is first to greet … Continue reading From a Sailor to his Sweetheart
I long for intimate conversation. Two people, leaning on elbows over cups of coffee on a small table in the little coffee house around the corner, eyes only for each other, oblivious to the buzz of life surrounding them. She smiles and looks down, and I love the way her lips curl, the delicate filigree of her ear revealed when she brushes her hair back, … Continue reading I Long For Intimate Conversation
We worked at Busch Gardens and saw each other often at the Festhaus. Freyja enchanted me from the beginning. Twenty years old, short blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin, red lips, cherry cheeks: a petite Teutonic Goddess. Freyja worked as a server, while I delivered food and dry goods from the food service warehouse. We were on smiling terms but not much else, although she seemed … Continue reading Revelation
There are two kinds of dead in war: those who die and those who live. Those who die stay dead; those who live die again and again and again until, someday, they too stay dead. He died in World War II during the Battle of Okinawa, but lived another forty-nine years filled with anger that he did not die in the war and stay dead. … Continue reading Eighteen Thousand Two Hundred and Fifty
My life bleeds from the pen in blood-red ink staining paper with great swathes of sorrow and towering pillars of joy. I live passionate in this life, laughing and crying, not knowing what lies before me, remembering what lies behind. I capture emotions with the lens of my mind and send them pounding through my veins to plant themselves in my heart where they fill me … Continue reading Why I Write
Larger than life, standing astride the threshold of the birth of a great civilization. Behind, the bucolic life of a shepherd bounded by faith, ritual, and history. Beyond, the fathering of a new age mothered by faith, ritual, and history. Betwixt past and future, the present, a looming, gigantic presence threatening annihilation and erasure from history. An obstacle of hesitation, uncertainty, fear. To flee means to cringe and crawl, … Continue reading David
I feel so much satisfaction watching the word count grow in the little story flowing from my pen. This joyful enterprise, this crafting of a universe built from memories of a lifetime. This imaginary world I have peopled with those I’ve grown up with, played, schooled, worshiped, worked, and served with. Decorated with scenes that have thrilled my eyes and my mind and lifted my … Continue reading My Little Story
Dreams are bad news. Good dreams or bad dreams, it doesn’t matter. When you awaken you are the same person, only sadder. You wake with less happiness, less hope than before you laid your head on the pillow and closed your eyes and sleep took you to that place you yearn for but hate with hot tears when your eyes open again. The place you … Continue reading Dreams
When two hearts break, it’s a compound fracture with all the ugliness of a leg bone sticking out awkwardly from torn, bloodied flesh, a crippling injury that takes a lifetime to heal, if it ever really heals without leaving memory of an exquisitely harsh pain, a bruise of purple and black on the soul, and a reflex action against falling in love again. Continue reading Heartbreak
On this Thanksgiving, I want to wish all of my friends and family a day filled with thankfulness, joy and happiness, peace and fellowship, family, friends, togetherness. What is one of those I have mentioned without the others? And love. What are any of those I have mentioned without love. And forgiveness. To love is to forgive. To forgive is to love. I have so … Continue reading Thanksgiving 2014
Boot Camp I craned my head around and watched through the window as sentries, wearing sidearms and carrying rifles, lowered the traffic barricade that shut off contact with the outside world. My heart skipped two beats and a stab of fear flashed through my mind. Fear of the life-altering weeks ahead of me. Fear of the unknown. I fought back a panic attack and looked … Continue reading Boot Camp
It bothered me well into my teenage years that I didn’t have a hometown. It bothered me when a classmate or friend proudly defended his state, or touted his state’s greatness. It bothered me, too, when I heard or read of a state celebrating a native-born citizen for an achievement. I felt jealous that my friends had a place they could call their hometown, a … Continue reading My Hometown
I forgave you, Dad, and asked you to forgive me. Your heart attack occurred early in the morning on November 30, 1994. I was aboard the USS Tripoli, returning to the states after a long six months at sea when I received notice. The Chaplain came to my stateroom to inform me and leave me a copy of the Red Cross message. The message said … Continue reading As You Lay Dying
When we moved into our new home on Trilby Avenue in Tampa in 1967, after living in Holland for three years, I thought we would stay there a while. But we only lived in that house for two months before packing up and moving to a brand new house in northeast Tampa. One day, I knocked a clapboard off the side of the house while … Continue reading Turkey In The Straw
My Family My family’s thread is long and unbroken and woven into the fabric of America. Penningtons, Gillards, Peaveys, and Campbells, Strands, Thoresons, and Tollefsons emigrated from nations in Europe, settled America, tilled her soil, fed her people, sent sons and husbands and brothers to fight America’s wars, worked in her factories, and helped make her a great nation. The blood of brave men and … Continue reading My Family
My friend Glenn and I dropped by The Pirate Bully Hayes Nightclub in Pearl City one night for a couple of beers. Although I had been stationed in Hawaii for three years, I had patronized Bully Hayes only once – the previous night. I don’t know what compelled me to go to that particular club on consecutive nights; serendipity I suppose. Bully Hayes had a … Continue reading Getting Lucky
I didn’t know what cutoffs were until I moved to Tampa, Florida with my family after living in Holland for three years. My next door neighbor, Terry Parrish, a boy three years older than my seven years, walked over to me on our first day at the new house while I helped dad unload the car of suitcases, the old beat-up red metal cooler with … Continue reading The Red Metal Cooler
The tall, white mountain beckons, beckons me across the years to return, calls me to climb again his steep, rocky face by the trail beside the stream. The stream of cold, cold water that rushes down the mountain much faster than I will ascend the mountain, rushes by with a gurgle, a gurgle as if laughing at my slow, halting progress. Progress marked by lungs gasping for … Continue reading Old Speck
My heart melted when I saw her pink, chubby face and heard her cries for the first time. I felt no shame at the tears that trickled down my cheeks and threatened to drown my shoes in a pool of warm saltwater. The doctors and nurses were invisible. I had eyes only for my daughter. My life had changed in the last ten minutes, and … Continue reading My Daughter
Midway between Pearl Harbor and Hong Kong, in the middle of the vast Pacific Ocean, the USS Tripoli lost her heartbeat. I woke from a sound sleep. My brain registered a change in the ship and woke me. Something was wrong! The always-there subtle vibration and low background hum of the ship’s heartbeat, her life, were not there. Light from the battle lantern next … Continue reading My Ship
My friend Andy was eleven years old. He lived in an old, old house on Bearss Avenue in Tampa. Bearss was properly pronounced ‘Bears’ but some folks drew out the second ‘s’ until it sounded like Bare-ass. When things were slow at Andy’s house and we were bored, when it was raining and we had to stay indoors so we wouldn’t run in the puddles … Continue reading My Friend Andy
The Writings of William C. Pennington 