Wednesday Words: Backwards Decisions

Once again, we’ve hit midweek and I’ve knocked out two prompts with one snippet. Today’s challenge is a scene using the #1lineWed theme of **BACKWARDS** and the #ThursdayThreads prompt of “I can’t decide.” I’ll admit, I had some fun with this one. Again, while it’s a random scene from the team and orphans trek to safety, it should be pretty self-explanatory.

They’d made camp for the night. Loch and Kin had emptied two packs. Uri added more items from his pack. The kids pawed through everything and once they’d made their choices, Meg scanned the boxes and tins. She checked every offering. “Golly. It all looks so scrumptious I can’t decide.”

The kids giggled and the men rolled their eyes at her and Dalton snickered. “That’s why I always carry a bottle of Tabasco sauce. It makes anything palatable. Even MREs.”

“Tis the same for ORPs,” Kin said, pronouncing the acronym like it was a word. “Only we tend t’use malt vinegar.”

Meg laughed. Bless the military of every country for their acronyms. Meals Ready to Eat. Operational Ration Pack. They at least had more variety than the tins of meat and other foods that she and Petro had gathered up when they escaped with the orphans. She had to give props to the Americans, though. MRE sounded much tastier than ORP.

After dinner, the kids settled into their bedrolls, which had been laid out near the small—but hotly burning—fire. Eventually, the men dispersed—guard duty, patrols, combat sleep. Meg waited until no one was paying her any attention. She dug into her pack and pulled out a small but precious roll of toilet paper then she slipped off into the woods. Announcing the need to answer nature’s call was always embarrassing. She’d gone at least 100 feet before she found a deadfall that made a suitable latrine. She unzipped her jeans but before she could squat, something rustled in the brush. She held her breath, listening hard and casting about for the direction of the noise. She caught another crackle of branches.  There. Her head jerked toward a large tree. A shadow moved in the darkness. She froze.

An ominous growl created chaos in her chest. She couldn’t breathe and her heart beat erratically, hammering against her rib cage. A huge wolf, silver in the moonlight stalked toward her. Meg stumbled backwards, tripped, and fell on her butt. The wolf lunged. She had no time to scream before it was on her. Flat on her back, she sank her fingers into the thick fur of the animal’s neck as if she was strong enough to keep those very large, very sharp teeth from ripping out her throat. Then the damn thing licked her face.

There you have it. Writers, are you up to the challenge? Or do you have a snippet already that fits one or both of the prompts? Readers, are you…”bush trained?” 😉


About Silver James

I like walks on the wild side and coffee. Lots of coffee. Warning: My Muse runs with scissors. Author of several award-winning series--Moonstruck, Nightriders MC, The Penumbra Papers, and Red Dirt Royalty (Harlequin Desire) & other books! Purveyor of magic, mystery, mayhem and romance. Lots and lots of romance.
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2 Responses to Wednesday Words: Backwards Decisions

  1. Ooo, good one! I can’t wait to read it all.

    I’ve got nothing in the WIP for either prompt. Bummer. After some searching, I did find ‘I can’t decide’ in Duke Noble 2…

    “Drink. Eat.”
    I’d already eaten several donuts on the way back to the room, so I waited until he’d finished the bag before I started in on him again. “Any closer to having names of your tattooed friends?”
    “Don was there. Oscar Wilder… And before you start, that was his name. Larry Durbin. Ol’ Paddy Flaherty. Tom Pluzinski. Those were my crew. And there was a guy we called Monk… I can’t remember his real name. He used to hang around the fringes.”
    “They all got the same tattoo?”
    Harry nodded. “We were all laughing and singing some damn Irish shanty song that Paddy swore his father taught him. Larry went first. Monk was last.”
    “All the same tattoos?”
    “We were all supposed to get the same tattoo, but I can’t swear to it. It wasn’t like we were going around comparing cheeks that night and by the time we sobered up, none of us were exactly in the mood to talk about it.”
    “Whoever ended up in the morgue here has his tattoo in the middle of his cheek, with a slight change in the filigree from yours.”
    “You remember mine that well? I can’t decide whether to be shocked or flattered.”
    “Get over yourself. I’m paid to remember the details. Not always handsomely,” I said, tapping the penny I’d laid on the nightstand. “But paid nonetheless…”

  2. Kimber says:

    I have survived peeing in the outdoors ( and not on my shoes😆)
    Happy Hump Day.

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