Since some of you are getting bored with the same old Bayou Woman absence of fishing and fun stuff like that, I’ve decided to let YOU entertain the readers!
I am going to set the scene for something that really did happen here recently. I haven’t shared it with you, so that I can do so now and have you all finish the story.
Your responses will be read and judged by a panel of 3 folks who are excellent writers, themselves.
The author of the best story chosen will be highlighted as a “guest writer” here on Bayou Woman AND will receive an autographed, personalized copy of Before the Saltwater Came.
Here’s the story:
The Adventures of Butch and Ti Du
Because of the heat and the biting sand flies, Bayou Woman allowed Termite to move the running line for his dog, Butch, to the front yard where there were less biting insects.
One day, Bayou Woman and Termite came home from a boat trip and noticed that Butch was not on his running line. Not only was he gone, but the line to which he had been attached was gone, too. Next they noticed that the front door was standing wide open.
“How in the world did that dog open that door?” wondered Bayou Woman aloud.
While she walked around the yard wondering, Termite ran inside looking all over for his beloved Butch, who was nowhere to be found.
Outside, Bayou Woman scanned the yard for signs of the Chesapeake Bay retriever. There was no sign of him anywhere. Dreading what she might find, she let her eyes reluctantly scan the highway behind her for signs of the pet. Thankfully, there was no sign of him there.
Termite called loudly for his dog, “Butch! Butch! Come here boy!”
Off in the distance, they heard a pleading yip and then an answering, “Woof! WOOF!”
The mother and son looked in the direction of the barks, and there he was, up the road a ways, with his chain tangled in something on the bayou side.
Once inside the house, Bayou Woman discovered that her good little dog, Ti Du, was innocently sitting inside, waiting for her master to come home. Trash was strewn from one end of the kitchen to the other, dirty cat paws on the counter tops.
Bayou Woman cleaned up the trash, trying to figure out who opened the front door and let in those wild cats.
Several nights later, Bayou Woman awoke with a start. Drugged by sleep, she stumbled into the living room. Waking slowly, she looked toward the foyer, where Butch should have been sleeping, his leash attached.
He was not there, and again the front door was standing wide open Butch was gone–leash and all. Termite had gone to sleep at a friend’s house and would be crushed if his dog ran away. Panicked, she ran outside in her night clothes, with no thought of her bare feet, looking for the dog.
Her eyes scanned the dark road for lifeless signs of the pet. Seeing none, she heaved a slight sigh of relief. Remembering he had answered their calls once before, she called out to him,
“Butch! Butch! Where are you boy?”
And from the bayou came the faint answer, “Woof! Woof! Over here!”
Bayou Woman raced down the steps, through the dew-drenched grass, across the black-top highway, following the anxious barks.
As she jumped from the bayou bank down onto the wooden wharf, she spied his bulky frame out over the water. She could not believe her eyes.
There he was, standing in Termite’s boat, six feet away from the dock, his leash dangling. He seemed to be smiling, his tail wagging vigorously.
She called out to him to jump in and swim . . .
Now you finish the story in 300 words or less!
Good luck and I’ll be checking back for your oh so creative endings!
Ok, start typing!